


What If You Wait 'Til Kindgom Come

by tfw_ftw



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Descriptions of Hell, Infidelity, M/M, Multi, Preseries, Torture, Weecest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-23 01:30:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tfw_ftw/pseuds/tfw_ftw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean discovers his more than brotherly feelings right around Sam's first growth spurt, so does Sam. Their relationship hits huge speed bumps along the way; Stanford, Hell, and Ruby. Then Castiel comes along and Dean doesn't really think it's such a bad thing. Sam disagrees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What If You Wait 'Til Kindgom Come

**Prequel - November 3, 1983 **

Growing up a Winchester is not an easy task. Growing up as Dean Winchester is even harder. But Dean is never one to complain, not like he really has anyone to complain to anyway. So he takes what he has and makes the best of a bad, usually shitty, situation.

Dean realizes two things pretty quickly after the fire. One, Mom wasn't meeting them at Mr. and Mrs. Guenther’s house and two, they weren't going home any time soon. Dad tells him that night that he has to be a big boy now, even though he’s four. He needs to help look after Sammy and that's what he does. All he knows is that he has to make sure the fire doesn’t come back to get Sam, like it got Mom.

In the months after the fire, Dad suggests they play catch or head to the park. Dean considers the offer but quickly refuses with a shake of the head, no need for words. He’s not too concerned about T-ball anymore. Dad says he has to look after Sammy and he doesn’t trust anyone to do as good of a job.

Sammy cries a lot the first year and Dad doesn’t really know what to do. Dean, however, learns that if he sleeps in the crib with Sammy, they can both make it through a peaceful night’s sleep. Dad tells him he’s too big to be in the crib but it’s better for Sammy so Dad gives up on telling him to stop.

Over the next few years, Dean exemplifies the phrase “raising a baby when you’re a baby.” When he is forced to start kindergarten, his biggest concern is not playtime or recess but the two-year-old he’s left at home.

Eventually, Dean realizes that when Dad told him he needed to take care of Sammy, he didn’t mean by himself. That’s fine in Dean’s book but he still takes it upon himself to make sure Sammy’s ready when it’s his turn to go to school. They learn their ABC’s and colors together. Sam can’t understand math at age four but he knows his numbers and Dean’s proud either way.

By the time Dean’s in fifth grade, he knows Sammy is leaps and bounds ahead of anyone else in his class and he can’t help the wide, cheesy grin he has every time Sam brings home a check-plus or a one-hundred percent.

Right around his thirteenth birthday, Dean realizes that Sam’s a very clingy brother. He can only blame himself but the new interest he’s getting from girls is not helped by having a snot-nosed eight year-old around. This all changes the first time his heart is broken. He vows he’s never going to love anyone ever again. Sammy didn’t take that news very well. Dean made it up to him by explaining he will still love him forever.

Dean realizes he’s really fucked up around sixteen. It happens one night after a lazy Sunday watching movies, he and Sam are sharing a bowl of popcorn on Dean’s bed when they passed out. He wakes up when a nightmare of fire and screaming turns into Jenny Ackles pressed into him, giggling quietly in his ear. She whispers Dean’s name, warm against his neck, encourages his humping with her hands on his hips.

In the morning, he wakes up with Sam in his arms and a wet spot on his thigh that matches Sam’s. The next couple of nights, Jenny’s features become firmer and straighter, until she reminds him of someone he can’t place. Until he can, and then he can’t get the image of Sam grinding against him out his head.

** February 13, 2010 - Clarinda, IA **

  
**The night before…**

Half an hour out of Arkansas, Sam clears his throat in that cliché, overdramatic made-for-TV way.

“Yeah, Sammy?”

“You know, I’ve been thinking...”

“Yeah?”

“I want to have sex with Cas.”

Dean chokes and nearly drives up the curb. “ _What?_ ”

“I’ve been kicking around some of the things you were saying last night and thinking back to the body swap thing. So, I wanted to bring it up.”

“Um...” Dean stumbles on his words.

“You don’t have to answer now, just think about it. It’s not some open relationship thing but you’ve been with him and I want to, too.”

“That doesn’t-”

Sam interrupts, “I said you don’t have to answer now.”

Dean says nothing, wondering if Sam’s just fucking with him. After the blowout they had a few months ago, he’d thought they were going to pretend nothing ever happened with him and Cas. Well, he kinda reneged on the pretending it didn’t happen part by talking shit last night, but he didn’t think Sam would bring it up again.

Maybe, Dean thinks, he can act like Sam never said anything about it.

~*~

“So what do you think?” Sam asks as they pull into the Super 8 parking lot.

“I knew it...” He says, but it’s mostly for his own benefit.

“Knew what?”

“Nothing. Go ahead and check us in.”

Their room doesn’t provide many creature comforts, it’s just a place to set up camp while they start the case. People literally eating each other requires a rest-up for mental health’s sake.

The victims end up with Enochian symbols all over them, _of-fucking-course_. Just Dean’s luck that Cas is needed. Sam’s offer is pushed to the front of his mind again and when Cas arrives he forces himself to focus on the matter at hand.

Cupid is responsible for marking the victims, according to Cas at least, so they find a restaurant taking advantage of the Valentine’s Day crowd and wait. Four very awkward hugs later and they are no closer to figuring out why these people are killing each other. Dean assumes the right hook to Cupid’s chin didn’t help either.

“I still can’t believe you punched the guy.” Sam complains as he walks into their room, shaking his head.

Dean sighs for the hundredth time, “He was talking about Mom and Dad like they were some kinda science experiment.”

“Still,” Sam takes off his tie and jacket before sitting on the bed. “I mean, he cried when we accused him of killing those people.”

“You want me to call him back to apologize?”

“No-”

“’Cause, I can call Cas down to pass the message along.”

“Dean-” Sam tries to talk over him.

Closing his eyes and bowing his head, Dean ignores him, “Cas, got a minute? I need you to pass a note.”

Cas appears a moment later, “I don’t understand.”

“You’re such a dick, Dean.” Sam turns to Cas, “Sorry, Dean is just fucking with you.”

“I was under the impression we _weren’t_ fucking anymore.”

Suddenly, the room is silent. Dean doesn’t want to say anything so, as always, Sam does. It’s just the way they work.

“Since we’re on the topic...”

“Sam, don’t.” Dean knowing exactly where Sam’s train of thought has gone.

“No Dean, let’s.” Sam pats the space beside him. “Cas, have a seat. I have a proposition for you.”

Dean glares, leaning against the room divider. “You know I hate you right now, right?”

Sam smiles but continues, “Dean and I were talking earlier and-”

“There was no talking!”

“ _I_ was talking to Dean earlier about something I’ve been thinking about.”

Cas looks to Dean then back at Sam. “Yes...?”

“Well, ever since our,” Sam makes an exaggerated motion between them, “Personal encounter a few months ago, I've been hoping we might be able to do it again.”

“Really, Sam?” Dean rolls his eyes, Sam can be such a cheeseball.

Puzzled, Cas frowns, “I’m confused.”

Before Sam can respond, Dean cuts in, “Ignore him. He’s joking around.”

“I’m really not.” Sam makes eye contact. “Listen, I like you and I liked being with you. So, I’m asking if you’d like to do it again- with me, not me in Dean’s body.” Sam looks at Cas, honesty written all over his face.

Cas pauses, thinking, “I’ll admit I haven’t thought of you in that way.”

Sam’s shoulders fall a bit, defeated. “It was a crazy idea, I know.”

There’s a moment of silence as Cas seems to make up his mind. “But, I wouldn’t be adverse.”

Dean isn’t exactly sure what that means, but it’s obviously a good thing because Sam is kissing Cas a second later. It should be stranger, watching them, but it’s more than a little hot and definitely better than how he’s imagined. There are moans, sloppy mouths, hardening cocks, sweat and in between it all, panted pleadings. Dean isn’t sure if he should keep watching or jump in.

Breaking away to catch their breath, Cas and Sam turns half-lidded eyes to Dean, seeking silent permission.

“Fuck, you guys look good.”

And that seems to be enough. They’re back at each other, hands roaming. Sam strips Cas of his coat and jacket, fingers fumbling on the shirt buttons. Cas has his hands tangled up in Sam’s hair, pulling his head back to kiss down his face to his ridiculously long neck.

“He likes it when you bite his earlobe,” Dean blurts out and for a second he thinks it came from someone else. But, Cas follows instructions well and Sam reacts like always, moaning for it.

“You’re giving- ah, _fuck_ \- commentary, now?” Sam cries out as Cas bites down on his neck.

Dean moves to sit next to them. “No, I’m teaching.”

Sam groans but Dean isn’t sure if it’s because his joke was bad or because Castiel is sucking a purpling signature into his skin.

“Now first things first, class. Uniform,” Dean is already taking his clothes off. ”There isn’t one.”

Sam chuckles but removes the rest of Cas’ clothes and then his own. Dean doesn’t get to do much more teaching, really, Sam latching on to him once they’re all naked. Cas plants kisses wherever his mouth can reach, hands between them working them up. When Dean turns to kiss Cas, Sam’s hand is getting him into the game.

The whole thing is a bit uncoordinated. Dean chalks it up to it being their first time together, but no one complains, not even when there’s no fucking. Dean comes with his finger in Sam’s ass and Cas’s mouth on this cock. Sam swallows Cas down and when his own rippling orgasm rips one out of Cas, they all fall haphazardly onto the queen, trying to fit around each other’s limbs.

Dean’s asleep before he can think too much about anything.

**May 29, 1996 - Cooperstown, ND **

  
**Where it all began…**

It's not that Dean can never say no to Sam, it's that Dean won't say no when he sees that Sam really wants something. All Dean’s ever tried to do is make sure that Sam is happy. He’s fine giving in to the puppy dog eyes occasionally, cause that usually leads to a happy, bouncy Sammy. Every once in a while, Sam will try to exploit Dean’s weakness with outrageous requests. Ice cream for dinner just because Dad’s gone, for example. But, Dean has learned to take each plea and judge it at face value. This of course means that sometimes, Sam doesn’t get what he wants no matter how sad he looks.

It’s an ordinary Wednesday, Dean’s on the couch channel surfing to find something other than the five o’clock news when Sam gets that weird look on his face. Dean likes to joke that Sam’s caught between trying to hold in a fart and smelling road-kill, but it really just means he has something important he has to say.

“Dean, you got a minute?” Sam questions tentatively, walking over to sit at the other end of the couch.

“Yeah.”

“You’ve got to promise not to laugh. No jokes or any of that crap.”

Dean smirks. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

“I’m serious.” Sam sucks his teeth, “You know what, nevermind.”

“Sammy, I’m kidding. I’ll be serious.”

Sam glares for a moment. “Like I was trying to say.” Dean watches as Sam face drops, nervousness showing in the corners of his mouth.

“What’s up, Sam?” Dean straightens up, concerned.

“Well,” he hesitates for a second. “Dad caught me in the bathroom the other day.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean, he _caught_ me in the bathroom.” Dean chokes as he laughs and Sam scowls, “Dean, you said you wouldn’t laugh.”

“I’m sorry.” Dean tries to catch his breath, “I’ll stop. I’ll stop. Sorry.” A last snort escapes. “Okay, so Dad found you jerking it.”

“Dean!”

“So, what about it?”

“Well, he tried to give me the sex talk and I almost brain bleached myself.”

Dean smirks. “Sooooo?”

“Well, I cut him off and told him you’d already given it to me.”

“I haven’t, though.”

“Well,” Sam’s eyes drop again. “That’s what I wanted to... I mean, I know the basics.”

“Peg A goes into Slot B,” Dean laughs.

Sam glares at him. “Yeah, that. But I see how many girls you get and I guess, I wonder... How do you do it?”

“Aw, Sammy. I didn’t think you were big enough to like girls yet. My boy’s all grown up!”

This time Sam smirks and elbows Dean, “Shut up, Dean.”

Dean gives Sam a few tips, nothing more than the obvious. Compliment her, smile, be interested in what she says, be yourself (actually, don’t do that) and don’t be too forward. He’s not really worried about the last one since Sam’s a big softie, but he assumes his impromptu lesson works because Sam gets home much later than any after-school activities run for the rest of the week.

When Friday comes back around, Dean corners Sam in the bathroom early in the evening.

“Didn’t think you’d be home tonight.” He looks Sam over.

Sam’s in the mirror combing the bangs out of his face, the faintest hint of styling product noticeable to Dean’s trained eye.

“Have you heard from Dad?” Sam asks Dean’s reflection.

“Not since yesterday. He says he’ll still be another week or so. Found some other hunters out in Yellowstone and they’re headed to Montana.”

“What are they hunting?” Sam tries to walk out of the bathroom but Dean blocks the way, both arms spread, pressed into the doorframe. “Fuck if I know, but what I do want to know is where you’re off to tonight.” The lewd smile Dean gives is met with a scowl.

“I’m going to a movie. I’ll be back around eleven.”

“Now, now young man,” Dean fakes an authoritative tone. “Isn’t eleven o’clock a bit late? I thought your curfew was nine-thirty?”

Sam scoffs as he shoves his way through the doorway, “Shut up, Dean and move.”

Dean switches to a sing-song voice and calls out as Sam walks downstairs, “You going on a date?” The last word was high-pitched and drawn out.

“I hate you!” Sam yells back before the door closes.

While Sam’s gone Dean occupies his time with some TV and a sandwich. When he realizes that he's completely zoned out wondering what Sam is doing, he decides he needs a more interactive activity to keep him entertained. He goes upstairs to his room, and rummages around in his duffle bag until he finds the magazine he tucked into the pried-apart lining. Sam always points out there’s a seam missing but Dean's smart enough to keep his secret deep in the bag. It's a copy of Busty Asian Beauties from about a year ago but he doesn’t mind, this issue has a centerfold spread on his favorite girl.

He gets comfortable, stripping down to his boxer-briefs in seconds and kicking the comforter to the foot of the bed. ‘Don't want to make a mess,’ he thinks. Dean turns to Keiko's feature, reads a bit about how her favorite foods are cheeseburgers and fries, "My kinda girl," he teases.

He leers over her intro shot, she's dressed in a black teddy and a frilly skirt. The skirt is all that’s left on the next page and she’s bent over the armchair she was presumably interviewed in.

Dean is a huge fan of the black and red lacy thong she’s wearing, his hand making its way down to cup his thickening cock. He closes his eyes briefly to imagine her giggling as she wiggles her ass at him and he huffs out a sigh. Turning the page, his mouth drops open to the close-up photo of Keiko's breasts cradled in her arm. Dean guesses they must be at least double D's. The faintest hint of her left nipple is peeking through her spread fingers. He runs his thumb over the paper breast, hearing her whimper at his touch and groaning himself as he squeezes the base of his dick.

The magazine eventually falls to the bed as Dean spirals further into his imaginary peepshow with Keiko. He pulls his boxer briefs under his balls and uses both hands to get himself off, coming with a drawn out growl. He stretches, enjoying the blissed-out feeling of a well-earned orgasm.

Less than five minutes later, the sensation of cooling come spurs him to clean up. Tucking his dick back in his shorts, he heads to the door. He stops right before reaching it when he hears a shift in the floorboards from the hallway.

Immediately, Dean notes the gun in his duffle, not three feet away, and then does a quick run-through of the other weapons in the room: holy water in the nightstand, silver knife under the pillow and another gun in the top drawer of the dresser beside the door.

He takes another step and hears a sigh from outside as Sam’s voice mumbles through the wood, “It’s me.”

Throwing the door open, Dean sees Sam sitting on the floor right next to the door. “Shit, Sammy. I almost killed you. You know better than to try and sneak up on me.”

Sam’s head is bowed so low his voice is coming out muffled. It may also have been a result of Sam’s legs being pulled in tight enough that his knees are at his ears.

“What the hell were you doing?”

Something completely indecipherable comes from Sam’s direction.

“I can’t understand you.”

Sam looks up at Dean, face beet-red, a mix of emotions on his face. “I said, I have no idea what I was doing. I guess I was sitting outside your room.”

“Um, huh?” Dean wonders for a second if Sam heard him jerking off, so he asks.

“No,” Sam answers and Dean sighs in relief, “I mean, I don’t know.” Sam pauses. “Yeah, I guess. Yes, I heard what you were doing.”

“Oh. Well sorry ‘bout that. That’s embarrassing.”

Sam snorts, sarcasm dripping as he speaks, “Sure, really embarrassing for you, you’re not the one who got caught outside his brother's room listening...” He cuts himself off.

“Listening?” Dean’s neck is starting to hurt from where he’s been staring down at the ball Sam’s body is still contorted into. “Sam it’s no big deal, whatever. Come on get up.” Dean grabs Sam by his shoulders and lifts him as he struggles to be let free.

“Leave me!” Sam tries to shake him off but Dean’s stronger and gets him on his feet. Before Sam can turn around, Dean watches Sam’s hand shoot down to cover the very obvious erection pressing against his light blue jeans. “I said, leave me.” Sam says with his back turned.

“Listening…” Dean trails off.

“Fuck, Dean. Why do you have to do this? You always have to know everything, don’t you?” Sam’s embarrassment has fallen wayside as anger now obviously fuels him, the strain in his voice growing with each sentence. “You want to know, huh?” He turns back to face Dean, head held high to try and make eye contact. “Want to know how I think about you sometimes? In ways I know I shouldn’t. I try to stop it, imagine tits or seeing some girl’s ass, _anything_. But it never works.” Sam’s voice drops, “So I end up going to bed with blue balls and cursing myself for being even more of a freak than I already knew I was. And here I am getting caught listening to you jerk off and practically coming in my parts ‘cause of it.”

Dean wants to say Sam’s not a freak, that he just admitted things that he’s been thinking for the last few months, even longer if he’d only admit it to himself. But Dean’s tentative to say the least and Sam’s looking at him in earnest. The worry and nervousness in Dean’s stomach is echoed on Sam’s face and he reads like a kicked puppy.

“Sam, you’re...”

“Stop, please. Just pretend this didn’t happen, okay? I didn’t say anything just now. You didn’t see anything. Don’t make any mentions of it. Just, please.”

If Dean is sure of anything it’s that he will never hurt Sam and as much as he wants to take his brother’s admission and run with it, he knows Sam feels like shit right now and this isn’t the time to push for discussion. Sam moves to go to his room and Dean lets him, watching the door click closed and the light stay off.

~*~

Dean walks on eggshells for days after what he calls the ‘blowout.’ Sam seems to be ignoring him so it’s not too hard to avoid further confrontation.

He knows that Sam’s obviously embarrassed as hell for getting caught. Dean knows he would be in the same situation, but he can’t help but dwell on what Sam said and his own feelings on the matter don’t seem to want to stop cropping up. But he has to look out for Sammy, put him first and this means pretending nothing happened, pushing everything down for his sake. Because Sam asked him to was the only reason he needed.

More than two weeks later, the school year is wrapping up and the warmth of summer is finally picking up in North Dakota. Dean is lounging out in the backyard of the house they’ve been renting, a luxury he doesn’t get too often (both down time to relax and a space to do it) so he enjoys it while he can. Then, Sam joins him.

There’s a bit of tension in the air; Sam comes outside with no shirt on and Dean can tell he’s having a hard time of not acting awkward. Everything settles however when Sam kicks at a leg of Dean’s chair.

“You really should put some sunblock on,” He says sternly. “I don’t want to hear you bitching when you’re all burnt to hell.”

Dean glances at Sam throwing a sheet onto the grass and notices the smile he’s sporting. “I don’t burn, I brown.”

Sam laughs out loud as he lays down and closes his eyes, hands tucked behind his head. “Well, at least make sure to avoid that hideous farmer’s tan.”

Dean pulls up his right sleeve noticing the developing tanline. “Screw you,” he huffs out with a laugh, before nudging Sam in the side with his foot. “Scoot over, Sammy.”

They lay in the sun for most of the afternoon, Dean’s shirt coming off somewhere after the first ten minutes. An hour passes and Dean finally breaks the silence, “You know...” he pauses. “I, uh, feel the same way sometimes.”

“What?” Sam questions.

“I question myself sometimes, too.”

“Dean, you don’t have to baby me.”

“I’m not.” Dean makes eye contact, somberly. “I’m serious.”

Sam looks at him disbelieving. “What?”

“I mean, you’re not a freak. ‘Cause then we both are.”

“So, what now?”

“Nothing. It’s out in the open, we can move on and forget it. Like you wanted.”

Looking back skyward, “Oh,” Sam sighs, “Okay.”

~*~

Everything slots back into place within a few days and a weight he didn’t know he was carrying is lifted from Dean’s shoulders. Dad gets back into town and they start in on their usual routine; training, hunting, moving.

Dean’s happy that Dad finally thinks Sam’s old enough to go out on hunts. He loves nothing more than the sense of completeness he has when Dad’s at point and he and Sam are watching his back. They take down a werewolf, a poltergeist, and Sam does his first salt and burn that summer. Life couldn’t be better. Better yet, neither of them mention anything again for so long that Dean manages to forget all about the ‘blowout’.

That is, until Sam gets a little girlfriend in Minnesota. It’s not a big deal until Dean finds them in the kitchen laughing and joking over a diorama for science class. He hasn’t seen Sammy look so relaxed in years. The carefree expression on Sam’s face, reminds Dean of their days playing Tonka trucks and eating dry cheerios.

An overwhelming sense of jealousy floods through Dean as he watches Sam with the girl. He realizes it’s because he and Sam haven’t had any moments like that in months.

The project only takes a week but they stay in Minnesota until the end of the year. The girl, Alex, visits a few more times and Dean learns that he really doesn’t like seeing Sam happy if he’s not the one responsible for it. What’s worse is that Dean recognizes his jealousy as the feelings for Sam he’s been trying to forget.

Luckily, they move and Dean fights to be the center of Sam’s world again but it seems to be too late. By the time Sam’s fourteen, he actively keeps to himself whenever they’re not hunting or training. The attitude Sam gives Dad is occasionally thrown at Dean, usually when he’s trying to defend one of Dad’s decisions. There’s only so much Dean can do when Sam’s being bratty so he usually calls up one of the high school girls he hits on when picking up Sam from school. At least they will pay attention to him for more than five minutes.

** August 21, 1999 - Camptonville, CA **

Weekends usually mean training and this one is no different. After a full day of hand-to-hand combat, Dad takes him and Sam out to some national park around two hours out of town and tells them to find their way home, simple as that. They’re left with two backpacks of supplies and one sleeping bag on the shore of a small lake.

“I hate when he does this,” Sam complains as he hefts a bag over his shoulder.

“It could be worse. The news said the weather should be clear for the next few days. So at least there won’t be rain to deal with.”

“Great job defending him, Dean.” Attitude in every word.

Dean glares at Sam, who seems to be determined not to look back at him. “Let’s get going, I want to be as close to a major road as possible before nightfall. We can figure out where to go from there.”

Dean is used to hiking through the woods; this isn’t Dad’s first survival test after all, but this park only seems to have service roads that lead to service roads and he’s steadily getting pissed, feeling like they’ve made no progress.

“We haven’t even seen another person yet,” Sam whines from a few paces behind him and continues rattling off his complaints. “Why are we even doing this? There’s nobody in this park. You think I can call someone to get us? I hate this. Where are we even going?”

“Shut up!” Dean yells, throwing the backpack and sleeping bag from his shoulders. “We’re here and Dad isn’t coming back to get us. So it’s up to you, you can stay here and whine about everything or shut the fuck up and come with me back home.”

Sam straightens up in surprise, guilt all over his face. Dean feels like an asshole. “Can we at least rest for a while? We’ve been walking for two hours.”

“Fine.” Quickly checking his watch, Dean searches the area for a place to set up camp. “Sun will be down in about an hour anyway, might as well get some rest for tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” Sam half-smiles and drops his bag alongside Dean’s. “I’ll go get some firewood.”

The fire is up and roaring in under ten minutes, a small pot filled with soup sitting on the side to warm slowly.

“You hungry? It’s our soup.”

Sam snorts, “Ham and bean?”

“You thought that was hilarious as a six year old. It was your best joke.”

Standing up a little taller, Sam cuts in, “In case you didn’t notice, I’m not six anymore.”

“Ha! Not like you weren’t acting that age just a minute ago.”

“Whatever. I was- am, freaking tired. We were training for hours today and then Dad wants to drop us off in the middle of nowhere like...”

Dean cuts him off with a huge, exaggerated sigh.

“Oh shut up, Dean.”

Dean pats the stump beside him as he makes room for Sam. “Dinner time, bitch.”

“I swear, you’re such a jerk sometimes.”

“And you love me anyway.”

They split the pot of soup, each with a cup in hand, no spoons. “Nice job on packing utensils, genius,” Sam kids.

“Who needs utensils for soup? You drink it!”

When night falls Sam suggests they unzip the sleeping bag and share the surface since it’s warm out. Dean says he’ll keep an eye out for any werewolves and Sam punches him in the shoulder then rolls over. An hour of silence passes and Dean is completely aware that Sam hasn’t fallen asleep yet. He checks his watch, it’s just after ten. Well that explains why neither one of them are close to sleeping.

“Weren’t you just complaining about being tired?” Dean says as he sits up and digs through the backpack beside him.

“Yeah, but I pushed through it and now I don’t think I could sleep to save my life.”

Dean chuckles a bit as he pushes his fingers into the pocket he created at the bottom of the bag a few months ago. He pulls out a short thin joint and places the tip in his mouth. Going back into the bag, Dean grabs the lighter they used to start the fire. He lights the blunt and takes three quick inhales, making sure not to take in too much so he doesn’t choke.

“What’s...” Sam turns over to face Dean. “You’re smoking?” He sniffs the air, “Weed? Really?”

Dean exhales the smoke in one long breath, “Yeah.”

“When’d you start smoking weed? Where’d you even get it? How’d you hide it from Dad?”

“That’s a whole lotta questions, Sammy.” Dean takes a long pull from the joint this time, holding his breath until he feels he may pass out then exhaling slowly, bright white smoke billowing into the night air. “And I don’t feel like answerin’ any of em.”

“So you’re just gonna smoke in front of me then?” Dean smirks at Sam, looking at him from the side and taking another hit. “Guess you’re not gonna answer that one either.”

Dean lays back down, enjoying the haze slowly moving through his body. “Nope.” He feels Sam sitting up beside him. “Now settle down, I’m starting to feel good.”

Minutes tick by, in reality, but Dean’s high is slowing down time and the munchies are starting to kick in.

“Sammy, hand me the M&Ms from your bag.” Dean thinks, ‘God I hope they’re peanut, M&Ms would be so fucking perfect right now.’

“You know they’re peanut, that’s the only kind you get.”

Dean sits up quickly, “You heard me say that?”

“Uh, yeah. You were talking out loud.” Sam laughs as he hands over the half empty bag of candy.

“No, I said that in my head.”

Sam just laughs louder, “That must be some good stuff.”

“Mmm-mmmm, peanut. Mmm-mmmm, chocolate.” Dean says around a mouthful.

“So, are you going to share?”

“I guess I could spare a few.” Dean stretches his arm out, offering the bag.

“That’s not what I was talking about. It’s called puff, puff, pass, isn’t it?”

“You can’t smoke, Sammy! You’re not old enough.”

“You’re not old enough either.”

Dean pauses for a moment and can’t think of how old you have to be to smoke. “There’s no age limit. It’s illegal.” Dean busts out laughing.

He imagines how hilarious it would be to see Sam high. He hasn’t gotten a chance to get Sam drunk yet, but this would be even funnier. He straightens up, sitting directly across from Sam and puts as much seriousness into his voice as he can muster, “Do you know how?”

“It’s not brain surgery.”

“I’m serious, you have to inhale for it to work.” Dean places the blunt in his mouth and taking another long pull to re-light it for Sam. He exhales and hands it to Sam. “It’s lit, so just close your lips around it and breath in deep. But don’t take too much of a breath or you’ll choke.”

He watches as Sam takes a quick inhale and immediately exhales the minuscule amount of smoke. “Sammy, breath in for two seconds and actually inhale it into your lungs. It won’t work if you breath out fast. Do it again.” Sam follows the instructions and Dean is surrounded by a thick cloud of white when Sam exhales.

“That’s my boy.” Dean pats Sam’s thigh, “Feel anything yet?”

Sam shakes his head briskly then giggles, falling back onto the sleeping bag. Dean follows Sam, chuckling. “You’re such a light-weight, Sammy.” They finish the joint in three more passes, making a dent in the bag of M&Ms, Sam only choking once from the smoke. Laying back down, Dean looks at the sky through a break in the treetops. When Sam scoots over and lays his head on his stomach, Dean only barely stops his hand from combing through Sam’s hair.

“It’s crazy how small we really are, ya know?” Sam says.

Dean takes a minute to process the question, eyes moving from star to star across the vast darkness. "Yeah," he drawls out slowly. A minute of peaceful silence passes before Dean breaks it, "I’m literally tingling right now."

"I know, I can feel it. It's awesome!" Sam grins, his head bounces on Dean's stomach and makes a wave of tingles roll through to Dean’s toes. It crawls back up his body a second later and settles at the top of his head. "It's coming out my hair. It's _minty_! Come feel."

Sam kneels beside him and runs a hand over Dean’s head.

"Stop messing around. It's cold and tingly, feel it."

Sam straddles Dean's legs and the nanosecond Sam's fingers make contact with his scalp, Dean lets out a moan. It lasts all the while Sam drags his fingernails across the nape of Dean's neck and back up through his hair to the crown. Dean barely fights back a full body shiver when Sam sits up. "Fuck."

"It _is_ minty!" Sam looks down at his hands and then to Dean's face. They hold each other's eye contact for a few intense moments. "And now I'm tingly." Sam smiles. "Is it contagious?"

"I think it is. You prolly got it from my head." Dean jokes, taking advantage of Sam’s first time smoking to mess with him a bit.

Sam shakes out his hands like he's trying to dry them, "Ew, ew, ew. Get it off." Then he wipes them both down the sides of Dean's face.

"Oh, you're dead now!" Dean threatens, rubbing his face and smearing his palms on Sam's left arm. Sam quickly presses his arm into Dean's chest, still laughing.

"I'm protected by my shirt. Ha ha!"

Sam glares down at Dean, then his expression turns mischievous. He pulls Dean's shirt up to his neck and lays his entire arm, shoulder to fingertips, across Dean’s chest. "Take that!"

Any sensation Dean felt before is instantly washed away and replaced by the scorching heat of Sam's skin on his. "I think it's gone," he mumbles out.

Sam sighs, a smile playing across his lips. “Now you’re hot.”

Dean grins, “I know.”

“You always were, though.” Sam moves smoothly, bracketing his forearms on both sides of Dean’s head, sitting on Dean’s lap. “You know, it took me forever to get over you.”

Dean is marvelling the long line Sam’s torso makes, overly aware of how much taller he’s gotten and not really listening. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, you made that little confession. What? Over three years ago now. And then nothing. I had to get over you. Didn’t want to pester.”

Dean’s slow on the uptake but he realizes what Sam’s talking about and his face drops a bit. “You didn’t pester. I actually hated that you- I never wanted... I missed having you around all the time.” He stutters out, not breaking their eye contact.

“I missed you, too.” Sam bends down a little, closing the space between their faces. “Glad we have this time alone.” He says before closing it completely by pressing his lips to Dean’s.

The kiss is quick and chaste. A test, Dean thinks when his racing mind catches up. But Sam is speaking before he can put any words together.

“I know what it was before, you still saw me as a little kid. But I’m not little anymore, Dean. I don’t need to be protected. I don’t need _you_ to protect me. I’m grown now. I can make adult choices.”

Sam kisses him again, another soft press of lips. “I’ve always chosen you, Dean. Do you understand?”

Thoughts the speed of molasses again, Dean answers, “Yeah, I know Sammy.”

Sam grins so wide it makes Dean smile but as Sam leans in again, Dean catches his face in his palms, “Wait, we can’t. I can’t.” Sam’s frown hurts Dean’s heart, “Dad...”

“I don’t care about Dad.” Sam cuts him off before he finishes. “I care about you.”

Dean turns his face away, the seriousness in Sam’s eyes bringing back everything he told himself to forget. Regret and hope and frustration all fighting in his head.

“Sammy...”

“Dean, look at me.”

Reluctantly he looks and not a drop of sincerity has left Sam’s expression.

“I’m serious.” A second of deafening silence. “We’re both freaks, remember?”

“Yeah,” says Dean, dropping his hands and resting them on Sam’s thighs instead.

This time Dean lets the kiss linger and opens his mouth when Sam’s tongue starts licking along his bottom lip. They kiss until they’re out of breath, the taste of peanuts and chocolate erased. All Dean can think about is how he’s finally gotten to kiss the one person he’s wanted to kiss the most in his entire life and how it was... perfect.

“Exactly, perfect.” Sam says against his lips.

Dean chuckles, “You’re in my head again.”

“You’re just talking out loud again.” Sam rolls off him and curls up against Dean’s side. They lay face to face for a moment, Dean watches Sam’s expression morph as different thoughts cross his mind. Most of the time, he’s smiling that big Colgate smile, all white teeth and dimples. The rest of the time he’s leaning in to peck Dean on the lips.

“So, what now?” Sam asks pulling back from one such peck.

“We’ll figure it out, I guess.”

~*~

It’s six-forty in the morning and Dean’s slowly waking up. Once fully conscious, he feels Sam against his side and moves his arm from around Sam’s back. In the cold light of day, Dean remembers the events from the night before; soft, sweet kisses beneath the stars and under the haze of a great high. Instantly his stomach starts forming knots. He wonders if he’s really making the best decision for Sam or if he’s caught up in his own selfish want. His movements wake Sam and he moves in closer, head resting on Dean’s chest.

“Morning.” Sam says sleepily, nuzzling under Dean’s chin.

Dean wraps his arm back around Sam’s shoulders and squeezes him in a hug, “Morning, Sammy. We need to get up and running. I’d really prefer sleeping in a bed tonight. You hungry?”

“Not really.”

“Alright, then.” Dean stretches, glad Sam takes the hint to move off him. They’re on the move quickly. Ten minutes later they’re at a major road, well a two lane road at least. “Seriously? We could have been home last night? Wow,” complains Dean.

Sam avoids eye contact and slumps along.

They walk along the road waiting for a car to come by so they can hitchhike, but it’s barely seven on a Sunday. Only crazy people are up, including Sam and Dean.

“You know, this doesn’t have to be an awkward morning after,” Sam calls out from behind Dean.

“What?”

“If you want to forget last night, just say it.”

Dean can’t really think of a response, mainly because Sam’s got a point.

“Never held back before.” he mumbles just loud enough for Dean to hear.

“Look, Sam,” Dean stops, sighs and turns around. “It’s really not as easy as you think.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re my kid brother. Two things in that sentence don’t make for a healthy relationship.”

“There it is again.” Sam stands up to full height a mere two inches shorter than Dean and for a second, Dean can’t believe the scrawny little brat he taught to tie his shoes is close to being a man. “I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Do you realize I watched you grow up? That I took care of you?”

“Yes, Dean.” Sam steps forward quickly, voice low now that he’s so close. “I know. And that’s what did me in. You were- you are, my everything. There’s no one I trust more than you, no one I’ve ever wanted to be mine more than you.”

Dean’s mouth hangs open, stupefied.

“Ever since I can remember, it’s always been you. Don’t you get it?”

A beat up station wagon decides to pulls up beside them right at that moment. “You boys need a ride somewhere?” Says the middle-aged woman from the passenger’s seat.

Dean takes a stuttering breath and turns on the charm. “Sure could. Need to get as close to Camptonville as we can.”

“Not sure where that is but we’re headed to Sacramento and we’ll be glad to let you off somewhere off Route-80.”

“That would be perfect. Once we start seeing signs for ’49, we can get off there.”

Kim and Nick are a nice couple from Sacramento who are taking Patrick, their eight-year-old, on his first camping trip. He learns they were fitness junkies before getting married but after having Pat they slowed it down and now, they wanted to introduce it into their son’s life. Dean asks them to drop them off just outside of Colfax.

After a brief lunch, Dean talks their waitress into giving them the hour long ride back home. He gives her some gas money and she gives him her number. Sam rolls his eyes. It’s noon by the time they walk through the apartment door.

Dad is nose deep in a case when they arrive. He doesn’t even glance up from his work, just checks his watch. “It took you eighteen hours to make a two-hour drive.”

“We could have been back last night, but I miss calculated how far the road was before deciding to camp.”

Dad looks them over. “You should know to keep going until you find civilization, you only camp if you need to.”

“Yes, sir." Dean says in a monotone.

“We’ll be doing this again. I hope you remember better next time.”

“Yes, sir.” He repeats.

“Go ahead and get cleaned up, there’s work to do.”

Relaxing at the indirect dismissal, Dean turns to Sam and grins. The one he gets in return has him giving Sam the first shower.

Dad’s research is boring, lots of cross checking cases from years and years back, but Dean doesn’t complain. Not like it would do him any good, anyway. Sam helps like he always does, from his computer, typing away like a secretary. He’s able to get more information and faster, which makes Dad give Sam a pat on the back every once in a while. It wasn’t express approval or praise but is less tense than Dad’s usual. Really, it’s the best thing Dean could ask for.

Later that night Sam corners him, pleading his case before the judge again. Dean knows they can't just jump into whatever last night was. Sam doesn’t realize it may not work, doesn’t know that it’s not supposed to. Sam protests, he’s determined to prove he’s old enough to know what’s best for himself and for Dean. Sam’s feet are dug in so deep on the issue is that for all the times Dean’s said no on principle, it’s easier to say yes.

It’s the best decision he’s made in a long time.

** January 24, 2000 - Wapello, IA **

Dean’s twenty-first birthday would be a bigger deal if he hadn’t been able to drink in bars since sixteen. Guess it wasn’t a big deal to Dad either since he’s off in California, leaving them in an apartment complex in another small town. The six-pack he picks up gets Sam more excited than him, which makes the day just a little better.

“You gonna get me drunk, Dean? What a horrible role model you are.” Sam laughs.

“It’s a shame that you’ll probably get drunk off only one beer.”

“Let’s see then.” Sam pulls a can off the plastic ring, opening and downing it in under a minute.

“Oh, this will be fun to watch,” Dean says, grabbing a can for himself. “Go for another one, Sammy.”

“Come on, Dean.” Sam throws himself onto the bed, striping down to this boxers along the way, then pats the space beside him. “I’m feeling _frisky_!”

Dean smirks and sits on the bed, Sam’s on his lap in a split second. “I knew this would be good.”

“I said I was frisky, not plastered.” Sam kills his second beer and latches on to Dean’s neck, pawing at his cotton tee. He gets Dean out of his shirt quickly, hands roaming over the exposed skin and trying to get at everything still hidden.

Dean finds Sam’s mouth, kissing him hard. They’re moving fast; urgent kisses, grinding hips and hands everywhere.

“Calm down, Sammy. We’ve got time.”

“I’ve been wanting to give you your present all day.”

“Present, huh?” Dean grins playfully. “You think you know what I want for my birthday?”

“Best gift ever,” Sam sits up on his knees and wobbles a little on the bed. Tucking thumbs under the waistband of his boxers, he pulls down. “I want you to fuck me.”

Something heavy falls over Dean and his expression darkens, “Sam, we’ve talked about this.”

“No,” Sam sits back across Dean’s thighs, deflated. “You talked about this. _You_ are the hesitant one, not me.”

Dean sighs, of course he wants to wait. Sam doesn’t really understand how much sex changes things, makes everything complicated. Fooling around like they have over the last few months is easier, no need to get too involved. Well, more involved than they already are.

“Everything we’ve been doing so far has only made me want you more. You, not sex.” Sam moves further into Dean’s lap, closing all the space between them. “I want you, Dean. And I want you to have me.”

Fuck, Dean hates feelings. They are dragging him between lust and guilt and moreso, he hates that he can’t just say what he feels. He wants Sam just as much as Sam wants him. “But-”

“No, buts! It can be as simple as you make it. I’ve said yes, now all you have to do is just say you want me too.”

“Sam, you know I do.”

“Then, happy birthday.”

“Happy birthday to me.” He leans in and kisses Sam softly, still unsure this is best decision.

Sam throws his arms over Dean’s shoulders and in the places where their bare chests are pressed, Dean can feel the echoed thump of his heartbeat. They move like it’s their first time fooling around again; soft, testing kisses and shy touches to bare skin. Sam manages to get Dean out his jeans and boxes and climbing off his lap, he rolls them off.

Sam shimmies up the bed and lays down. Dean moves to hover of him. Looking down at Sam, he hesitates for a moment then Sam wraps his legs around his hips and pulls him flush. Their cocks rub against each other’s and Sam lets out a long and loud groan.

“Keep it down, Sammy. Don’t want to get caught do ya?” Dean asks, kissing Sam’s neck. “Remember you’re too young to be drinking.”

“Oh, blow me.”

“All you had to do was ask.” Dean prys Sam’s legs off him and trails kisses down his chest.

At the first lick to the head of his dick, Sam grabs at Dean’s short hair. Dean laughs but continues with quick licks, just to keep Sam squirming. He finally takes Sam to the base and they both sigh. Dean’s learned the trick to getting Sam off over these last few months. Twisting his hand while sucking gently on the head, humming when he’s got Sam almost in his throat, keeping his lips tight as he lets Sam hump into his mouth.

All these tricks leave Sam keening. “Please, Dean. More.”

In a sudden burst of energy, Dean grabs Sam’s hips and flips him over, palming at Sam’s ass. He slides his hands up and back down Sam’s back.

“Dean.” He hears moaned into the bed sheets.

A smile plays on Dean’s lips knowing Sam is so strung out. He nibbles at Sam’s hips, moving towards his ass and the top of his thighs. Dean loves the pleading noises Sam makes. He uses his thumbs to spread Sam’s cheeks, exposing his hole to his hot breath. The broad swipe of his tongue over the taut muscle makes Sam hump the mattress.

“God, Sammy, you always taste so good.”

“Shut it with the porno talk.”

He shuts Sam up by pointing his tongue and pushing in until lips touch skin. Dean’s not sure how long he needs to prep Sam, but both of them are getting anxious, so he leans away to get the lube from the nightstand.

Sam whines but Dean replaces his tongue with the pad of his thumb, barely pressing against him. The teasing causes Sam to push his hips back seeking more, Dean puts his dry thumb into the spit-slick hole and he’s amazed it goes in so easily, imagines his dick in the hot, tight place.

“More, please. Dean, please.”

The little bottle of lube is almost out of arm's reach but Dean grabs it and squirts a quarter of it down the crack of Sam’s ass. Cool slickness runs over his thumb as he finger-fucks Sam, pulls it out to spread the lube all around. He thrusts in between Sam’s cheeks, coating his dick as much as he can. Leaning over, he pumps his hips, loving the easy slide and the noise Sam makes.

He gets back to his knees, pulling Sam up and setting him on all fours. Another squirt of lube is spread on his dick. Dean holds onto Sam’s hips as he lines up the head, pushes forward. It’s tight, Sam is clenching all his muscles and Dean can’t go any further. He tries to sooth Sam, rubbing his hands over his sides and back.

“You’ve got to relax,” he whispers, still running his hand up and down Sam’s spine. He pulls out gently when Sam makes a sound too close to pain.

Sam buries his face in a pillow, voice muffled, “It hurts.”

“You want me to stop?”

Sam shakes his head furiously.

“Want to just fool around some more?”

Sam nods slowly, dropping to his side and avoiding eye contact with Dean. “I thought... I’m sorry, Dean.”

“What are you sorry for?” Dean nestles against the front of Sam. “Just gotta take it slow.”

“It was too much.”

Dean kisses Sam on the forehead, “We can wait till you’re ready.”

Sam shoots his head up. “I _am_ ready. It’s that- I thought- I guess my fingers aren’t the same as the real thing.”

“Fingers?” Dean’s struck with the image of Sam opening himself up in the shower, soaped up and glistening wet.

“Yeah,” Sam looks a little embarrassed. “I’ve been trying to make sure I wasn’t such a virgin.”

Dean lets out a choked up laugh, “Sammy, I’m pretty sure you’re gonna act like a virgin even after you have sex.”

Sam glares at him, mouth drawn up in an exaggerated frown. “You know I hate you, right?”

“You love me. Don’t kid yourself.”

Sam straddles Dean, kissing him hard. Dean can tell Sam’s on a mission and he’s not going to be able to stop. Kissing leads to groping which leads to Sam lining up their dicks, rocking his hips. Dean slides a finger into Sam and he practically melts on top of Dean, who can’t keep his heart from fluttering in his chest. They’re both close, Sam panting into Dean’s ear when he whispers “I’m ready.”

Grabbing the lube Dean spreads more on his fingers and dick as Sam lifts up to let Dean position himself.

“You’ll be able to control how fast and how deep I get. Okay?”

Sam’s eyes are closed but he nods.

“You sure?”

Sam doesn’t hesitate, voice sure and confident, “Yes.” Then he lowers himself down tediously slow. It’s still tight; hot and wet. Dean throws his head back into his pillow but refocuses because he wants to see every moment, his cock disappearing into Sam’s body, Sam’s face drawn up in concentration, relief when he’s seated. The rise and fall of Sam’s chest, every breath as he adjusts to feeling of being so incredibly full.

“Move when you’re ready.”

Dean fights back the urge to fuck up and into Sam, knows he has to let him take his time, wants to make sure he doesn’t hurt him again. So, he rubs his hands over Sam’s thighs and praises him “You’re doing so good. God, Sammy, you’re so tight. Fucking perfect.”

The rhythm they find is tame, Sam wobbles on top so Dean pulls him down, rolls them over and with another deep kiss, he pushes back in.

The change in angle makes Dean’s head spin. Sam’s relaxed around him, clenching when Dean hits a particularly good spot. Dean drives into Sam with more urgency when he sees Sam can take it. And he does take it; cries of more, deeper, right there.

Feeling his orgasm approach, Dean starts stroking Sam who tightens around him. The noise coming from him, Dean assumes, is a sign he’s close too. Another half dozen pumps, deep inside Sam and his hand on Sam’s dick and together, they both fall over the edge. Dean collapses on the side of the bed, chest heaving.

“Happy birthday,” Dean can hear the smile in Sam’s voice.

“Knew you’d still be a girly virgin.”

** July 13, 2001, El Mirage, Arizona **

Mid-July finds Dean and Sam tag-teaming a simple salt and burn in a Phoenix suburb. Sam graduated a few weeks ago and Dean is excited to start hunting with his brother. They haven’t really addressed if Sam wants to hunt alone or come along with Dean, but they’ve got plenty of free time to go over that. So, Dean sits back in their booth waiting for their waitress, Susan, to come back with their drinks.

“I was just thinking,” Dean starts.

Sam looks up and smirks, “Were you now?”

“Shut up, bitch.” Dean smiles back. “I was thinking,” He pauses again to see if Sam will make another comment. “Well, since you’ve graduated, I know you’re not gonna want to go on hunts with Dad. Now I know you think you’re grown and all,” Dean hesitates for a moment. “But if you want to head out on your own, we’d have to get you your own car.”

“About that, Dean. I, um,” Sam’s interrupted when the waitress comes around with his root beer and Dean’s Coke.

“Were you gentlemen ready to order?” She asks.

Dean looks at Sam. “You know what I always get.”

“We’ll each have the bacon cheeseburger combo with everything, one with extra onions. Can I also get some honey mustard on the side?”

The waitress nods her head and writes down the order. “I’ll be back with your food as soon as possible.”

A few beats pass before Dean says, “I called Dad. He’s says he still might need a few days in Tucson, so we can hang out here until he’s done. See if we can find a new case or something.”

There’s a sudden, awkward quiet.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Sam concedes. “We can get in some quality TV time. Haven’t done that in a while, right?”

Ten minutes of silence and two failed attempts at small talk later, they have their food and Sam slides an envelope across the table. Dean eyes it while shoving three fries in his mouth.

“Was’at?” He says around the mouthful, eyes now locked on Sam.

Sam keeps his head down and mumbles, “Open it.”

Dean wipes the excess ketchup and oil off his fingertips then opens the unsealed letter. It’s a single page with a fancy letterhead at the top. He reads it over, glancing at Sam every few seconds to read his expression.

“Always knew my pain-in-the-ass little brother could make it into college if he wanted to.” Dean says before diving back into his food. The silence hits him after a few seconds and he tries to recover. “Oh, uh- _really_ good job, Sammy.”

Sam eyes Dean through his bangs. “Thanks, Dean.” He takes a deep breath. “But I want to go.”

“Huh?”

“I didn’t just apply for the hell of it. I’ve been saying all year how I don’t want to be a hunter anymore. I want to go to college, Dean.”

“So you waited...” Dean grabs the paper from the tabletop and scans quickly. “Almost two months to show me this? Why?”

“I just thought-”

“You thought you would sneak off without me noticing? Like how you did all this applying without telling me?”

“No, Dean. I thought...”

“You thought what, Sam?” Dean, realizing his voice is rising, lowers it. “Huh? That I’d just let my brother go off into the world by himself?”

“Dean, I know you can’t honestly be worried about my safety! It’s not like you didn’t train me my whole life to be able to take care of myself!”

“And just ‘cause I did a damn good job, doesn’t mean you need to test it.”

Dean watches as Sam’s mind goes through all the retorts he probably rehearsed. And he probably only rehearsed the words as a test run for telling Dad. Suddenly, as if Sam heard Dean’s brain mention Dad, Sam sits up straight and his face becomes resolute.

“You’ve been hunting on your own for a while now and Dad only drags me along because he has to.”

Dean scoffs as he eats another fry.

“I’m serious. I want some time to do what I want. But what I want isn’t to hunt. I want to go to school and help people in a different way. In my own way.”

“Do you realize how many people you help hunting?”

“Damn it, Dean! This is about more than that.” Sam takes a deep breath. “I want to be happy. I want to have a future. I’m sick of the road, of the hotels, of all of it. I’m sick of this life.”

Dean wonders if that list includes him. “Sam, I don’t really want to get into this here. Let’s just eat.”

~*~

When they get back to the hotel, Dean lays out on their bed, kicking his shoes off and stretching out. “I call remote.” He calls to Sam who’s in the bathroom and then silently cheers when Sam curses.

Sam comes out the bathroom and glares at Dean, who returns a huge, cheesy grin.

“Bring it when you come over.” Dean says.

“You call the remote and don’t even get it yourself? I think that means you forfeit it.” Sam’s all smiles now.

“Wrong! I called it, it’s mine.”

“Nope, I think that’s a rule.” Sam’s at the bed and holding the remote up at his right shoulder, clearly out of Dean’s reach.

“Bullshit. I called it, now gimme.” Dean makes a grab for it and misses when Sam extends his arm up. “Come on, Sasquatch, don’t be a asshole now.”

“I’m not the one crying for it. If you called it, come and get it.”

Dean quickly sweeps his right leg over the bed and around Sam’s waist, throwing him down to the bed. Closing his legs together, he sits on Sam’s midsection, holding him still while pulling his right arm down. Snatching the remote, Dean leans over Sam’s ear and whispers, “I called it.”

** August 23, 2001 - Kalispell, Montana **

Sammy’s letter sits on the forefront of Dean’s mind but stays on the back of his tongue for weeks. He understands why Sam didn’t tell him and knowing Dad’s reaction won’t be a fun time for anyone. He still couldn’t be prouder but, he can’t help thinking of all the ways he could make him stay.

They’ve still been hunting together, Dean hitting Sam’s soft spot for grieving women by finding cases with sad moms and co-eds. Their little cross-country tour lands them in Montana, too close to California for Dean’s taste but Dad’s got new information from his trip to Canada so they might decide to meet-up.

Dean pulls into Kalispell’s La Quinta, hoping Dad doesn’t say anything about the price when he shows up. He calls to let him know they’ve settled down and where to find them.

Sam speaks up when he disconnects, “When’s he coming?”

“Should be in late tonight. Said they have to drop off some guy on the way.”

Sam checks his watch and looks at Dean mischievously. “That means we have a few hours alone?” He walks from their bags on the bed to stand behind Dean who’s sitting on the couch. Leaning over, Sam runs his hand down Dean’s chest and flicks his tongue into Dean’s ear. “Guess we’ll have to entertain ourselves somehow, huh?”

Dean relaxes into Sam’s touch and imagines what they could get up to before Dad arrives.

“Have any ideas… Dean?” Sam’s mouths each word along Dean’s neck.

“I, uh- yeah.”

Dean can feel Sam smile into his skin.

“That’s good.” Sam says softly breaking away to jump over the back of the couch and lay across the cushion. “But there’s supposed to be a World War II documentary on PBS.”

Sam laughs and unceremoniously, Dean throws him off the couch and pins Sam to the floor.

“So, you like being a cock tease?” Dean squeezes his thighs around Sam’s legs.

“Get off me, dumbass! You weigh a ton.”

Dean glares down, grip tightening on Sam’s wrists. “You think it’s funny to give me blue balls?”

“Actually,” Sam grins like the cheshire cat, “It’s pretty hilarious.”

Dean leans in, whispering “We’ll see about that.” He gets up gracefully and sits back on the couch.

Sam collapses on the other side, still smirking.

“Stop joking around and come over here,” Dean says without looking away from the TV.

Sam scoots under Dean’s outstretched arm. They find a random movie and about an hour into it, Dean drops his arm to Sam’s side. His thumb rubs softly against Sam’s hip bone through the denim. Every few minutes Dean flexes his hand, moving Sam’s shirt around until his palm is on top of skin. Thumb slowly creeping up Sam’s shirt, Dean watches as Sam’s eyes flutter closed. Barely moving, Dean rubs over Sam’s right nipple; the bud perking up from the attention.

“You like that, Sammy?” He says as Sam rolls onto his back, head in Dean’s lap. Taking the invitation, Dean slides his hand to Sam’s left nipple. Light rubs, occasional pinches and Sam relaxes further into Dean, humming out a happy sigh.

Dean trails his hand back down Sam’s chest, skirting along the hem of his jeans and when he unzips them, Sam lets out a groan. Grinning, Dean knows he’s got Sam wrapped around his finger.

“What do you want, Sammy?”

“Dean,” He pleads.

“Yeah?” Dean dips his hand into Sam’s pants, fingertips brushing the tip of his dick, the tiniest hints of moisture there. “You want this?” Dean slips his hand further down, palming Sam just to watch him twitch.

“Please.”

Another hard press against Sam’s rapidly swelling cock and Dean drags his fingers out of Sam’s jeans letting his nails rake over Sam’s belly and chest.

Tugging on Sam’s shirt, Dean whispers, “Heads up.” Sam lifts his shoulders off the couch as Dean stands up. “Sorry, Sammy. I gotta piss like a racehorse.” He laughs walking towards the bathroom.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sam yells.

“Told ya, don’t mess with me.”

“Gonna kill you for this!”

Dean closes the bathroom door. “I’m sure you can handle it.”

~*~

Dad doesn’t show up till half past three in the morning. Dean knows the exact time because he’s still awake when he comes stumbling in. The smell of cheap beer and cheaper liquor wafting through the room. Dean doesn’t think to fall asleep until the sound of Dad’s snoring from the couch has lasted more than twenty minutes. At least he’s back in one piece.

In the morning, Dean and Dad are at the kitchen table. “You know there was an America’s Best when I was coming in? That would have been cheaper.” Dad says to Dean, looking around at the classier-than-usual room.

“I must have missed it. When we came into town, the first thing we did was eat.” Dean tries to explain away the cost, “This was the closest place to crash after.”

Dad huffs in understanding and Dean hurriedly changes the subject, “So you said you found a lead?”

That does the trick. Dad sets to work pulling out his journal and a stack of papers from his duffle bag. He explains how they trapped a demon in the mountains of Cranbrook, who called him out by name once it saw him. The threat of exorcism and some useful details later, Dad tells them it’s time to move on to Tennessee.

They spend the rest of the day learning a few new tricks Dad learned on the hunt, including some warding symbols. Dean dives head first into the information. All that matters is learning what he needs to keep Sam safe. He can’t stop Sam from leaving, so he better control what he can, right?

“So we’re headed to the east coast to follow up on this lead. We’re off tomorrow.” Dad declares, giving orders like Dean is so very used to.

“Dad,” Sam mumbles from his place in front of his computer. “Um... About leaving.”

Dean tries to cut him off, knowing this is not the time to talk about school, “Sam, don’t start that now. No need to bring that up.”

Sam seems to ignore him, “I’m not going to the Tennessee. Freshman orientation starts on the twenty-seventh.”

“Orientation?” Dad asks.

“Yeah,” Sam answers. “Classes start the Monday after but I’d prefer not to miss orientation.”

Dad turns to Dean, stern expression etched on his face, “Dean?”

No need for more secrets, Dean knows to spill all the beans. “He applied to Stanford."

"How long have you known?"

"About a month."

"Hello!” Sam gets up from his chair. “This isn't about either of you! Why am I being ignored?”

Dad eyes Sam up and down, “We’ve just gotten our biggest lead so far and we’re off to Tennessee.”

“No, Dad, you’re off to Tennessee and I’m going to California.” Sam folds his arms over his chest and squares up, “There’s more to life than hunting.”

“You know what our life is about, Sam.”

Sam’s face gets more serious, “I don’t remember her, Dad. I don’t feel the same way you do.”

“Sam, stop.” Dean blurts out, this won’t end well.

“I’m serious.” Sam looks to Dean then back to Dad. “I’ve done my time for Mom. It’s time for me.”

“Sam, please!”

“No! I’ve been the freak moving from town to town all my life. Then I was the thirteen-year-old freak learning Latin exorcisms and how to make salt rounds!”

“Enough!” Dad barks. “This isn’t the time for one of your little tantrums, Sam. Get some rest. We’re on the road tomorrow.”

“No, Dad.” Sam stands his ground. “I’m not a some baby and this isn’t a temper tantrum, okay? I’m not going to Tennessee, I’m going to California.”

They stare at one another, tensions running high and everyone on the edge of boiling over.

Dad starts, “I’m going to bed. We leave at sunrise.” The final order.

“I’m not going.”

“Well, if you’re not going in the morning, then you might as well go now.” Dad picks up his own empty duffle and tosses it by the door, “Tell me how the weather is.”

“That’s no problem.” Angrily, Sam starts packing.

“Sam!” Dean follows him. “Dad!” He looks over, “Please!”

Expression unwavering, Dad says, “If he thinks he’ll be better off, let him be.”

“Sam, man, seriously! Please, we can sort this out later?”

Sam looks at him, “Are you going?”

“Sam, it’s a lead. Not some random hunt, you know that that means.”

A short pause. “I know.”

Dad speaks up again, “Dean, leave him be. Either he’ll choose family or choose to be selfish.”

“I’ve been doing nothing but choosing the family all my life, Dad!” Venom laced through each letter of the name. “I’ve _never_ had the chance to choose myself!”

Sam throws his duffle over his shoulder.

“If you’re gonna go...” Dad takes a deep breath and then looks away. “Then you can stay gone.”

Sam touches the doorknob, sighing deeply, adjusts his bag and walks out.

“Dad?” Dean looks over at him.

“He’s made his decision, Dean. You know how important what we do is.” The head-strong stance Dad had a moment ago is fading quickly. “I’ve never been as close to finding it as I am now and if Sam refuses to help,” he sighs, “Then I’d prefer he’d be out of the way.”

Dad grabs the bottle of whiskey from the kitchenette, refilling his glass.

Dean’s eyes move from the door to his father’s defeated slump. “I’m going after him.”

“What for? He doesn’t want to be here.” He says, but Dean is already gone.

He searches left and right for Sam, but the weak motel lights only brighten a few feet off from the building. He hurries to the car, about to pull onto the street and take a chance going left, when he spots Sam’s hunched figure sitting on the curb of the front office. He parks beside him and rolls down the window.

He hears a faint voice float in, “I still have some of my stuff in the trunk.”

“Well then it’s a good thing I got your panties in there.” Hearing Sam’s snort brings a smile to his face. “Get in, bitch.”

Sam climbs into the car, tossing his bag onto the back seat.

‘Gotta keep him happy, prove it’s not all shit here,’ Dean thinks before saying, “You know what? How about we get our own room?” Dean suggests, a fake smile plastered across his face. “See if they have a king somewhere so your feet don’t hang off?”

“Sure.” Sam says unenthusiastically.

“I’m sure you don’t want go back in the room with Dad. Right?”

Sam looks at Dean out the corner of his eye, scowling.

“I thought so. Now, gimme a sec.”

Dean gets out the car and walks into the front office. The woman he dealt with earlier in the week is replaced by a dirty-looking older man who he assumes takes the overnight shift.

“Welcome to the Bridge Street Inn. How can I help you?” The man says when Dean approaches the counter.

“Do you have any rooms with king-size beds? Just need one for the night.”

“Hold on, lemme check.” The man types a few things in his dinosaur of a computer. “The only room that’s ready for check-in right now with a king is the suite and it’s a buck twenty-two per night before taxes.”

“That’s fine. Here’s my info and it will be cash.” Dean pulls out his ID and his winnings from the day before, putting it all on the counter. As soon as he gets the key, he walks out and knocks on the passenger side window.

“We’re sleeping good tonight, Sammy,” He says as he jingles the keys in front of Sam’s face. “Bring your ass.”

They make their way to the room, thankfully it’s on the other side of the hotel from Dad’s. Dean opens the door and turns on the light. The first thing his eye is drawn to is the large Jacuzzi in the corner. “Fuck yeah, Sammy! There’s a hot tub!”

Sam rolls his eyes but smirks. “I’m not getting in that thing.” He moves into the room, setting his bag down on the dresser. “It’s probably crawling with bacteria or something.”

“Don’t be such a party pooper. It’ll be awesome. I’m starting it now.” Dean saunters over and turns the hot water on to fill the tub. He hops from foot to foot excitedly and looks to Sam when he hears him laugh. “What?”

“You’re such a little kid, sometimes.” Sam says as he takes off his shoes and gets comfortable on the bed.

“Fuck you. Dude at the front desk didn’t say shit about a hot tub. It’s the little things in life, Sammy.” Dean checks the water temperature and increases the cold water. “Like Jacuzzi jets in a shitty hotel.”

When the tub finally fills, Dean strips naked and climbs in, adjusting to the heat. He whistles at Sam who’s been watching and nods his head to come over. “I know you wanna. I’m nice and slippery.” Dean tries for sultry. Sam laughs and despite himself, so does Dean.

Sam gets up from the bed, pulling his shirt over his head. “Only ‘cause I know you’ll annoy me the whole time.”

The second Sam’s in the tub, Dean climbs on top of him, kissing his neck, jaw and mouth. Straddling him, Dean starts winding his hips in small circles, pulling choked moans from them both as they continue to kiss. Sam pulls back to breathe and Dean latches onto his neck, kneels between his legs and trail kisses down to the skin above the water line.

“Dean,” Sam asks, “What’s gotten into you?”

Dean looks up, tongue poking out. “You telling me to stop? Cause you’ve never been one to turn down sex before.”

Sam quirks an eyebrow. “You don’t have to stop, it’s-”

“Okay, then,” He says and turns his attention to Sam’s left nipple.

Sam bites his bottom lip, “Okay, then.”

Running his hands down Dean’s back, nails scoring thin lines along the way, Sam stops just before he reaches Dean’s ass only to come back up. Dean moves to Sam’s other nipple, licking a flat tongue over the nub and blowing cool air to perk it up. Sam reclines into the water deeper, ass on the ledge of the seat, presenting himself.

Dean contemplates his next move. He’s worried. Sam was ready to leave an hour ago, with no qualms about leaving him behind. This may be the last time they have this, but he doesn’t want it to be the last time. So, he throws caution to the wind and goes all in.

“Sit up, Sammy. I want to try something new.”

“New? In the hot tub isn’t kinky enough?” Sam jokes.

“Shuddup and sit up.” Dean moves to sit across Sam’s thighs. “I want you to fuck me.” He says, thinking back to when Sam first said those words to him, seemingly so long ago.

Sam’s face goes slack, “You serious?” Immediately, he starts rambling, “You’ve never let me do that. I mean, it’s not like I’ve asked or anything. It’s just that we’ve been together for so long and you’ve never offered. I guess I’ve thought about it before- probably a few times now I think about it, but I wasn’t sure you’d be up for it. And I didn’t want to stop what we were doing and turn you off or anything. I’m just- wow, okay. I’m speechless.”

“That’s you speechless?” Dean laughs. “Guess I just need to shut you up then.” He kisses Sam’s open mouth, presses little nibbles to his lips until he closes it. Sam is still revved up, he’s grabbing Dean harder, sucking a little longer with each kiss. It’s aggressive and Dean likes it, a lot.

“I- can’t- believe- this-” Sam punctuates each word with a kiss to Dean’s neck.

“Quiet down, you.” Dean cries out when Sam grabs his cheeks and pulls them apart. He isn’t expecting the index finger rubbing at his entrance, caught up in Sam’s mouth instead. The rush of water he feels when Sam pushes in makes him dizzy and makes him spread his legs a little further. He questions why they haven’t done this before.

“Another, Sammy. Want you to fill me all the way up.” He throws his head back when he feels two fingers. Sam’s palm on his ass signaling their all the way in him and he squeezes. “That means I like it,” he says to the ceiling. “Now get your dick up there.”

“Sure?”

“Do it, Sammy.”

Sam tilts Dean’s head down to kiss him lightly, “I love you.”

“I know.”

There’s a small smile shared between them and then, Sam’s inside. Dean exhales, concentrating on the burn and keeping as relaxed as possible. Sam feels huge and Dean feels like he’s being split apart as Sam rocks slowly into him.

Sam pulls him in tight, trying to get deeper. Dean drops his head to Sam’s shoulder and grinds down. The water sloshing around them as Sam picks up the pace.

When they lay in bed later, dry, satisfied and Dean a little sore, he realizes it was a great idea to do it in the tub because they couldn’t fall right to sleep in there. He’s cuddled up against Sam, head tucked under his outstretched arm. He knows it’s extra, super, ridiculously, girly but he doesn’t really care. It’s their last night, isn’t it?

“Stanford, huh?” Dean makes sure not to sound accusing.

“Yeah, man. I can’t wait. A little nervous, but I’ll get over it, ya know?”

“Not really.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“Nah, it’s alright.” Dean pauses, not sure where to take the conversation. Not sure he really wants to have the talk at all. However, Sam, in his infinite wisdom starts it for him.

“This isn’t about you, Dean. It isn’t even about hunting. It’s about me. About me wanting to finish growing up.”

“You can grow up without leaving.”

“There’s so much left I have to learn, that I want to learn and I can’t do that while hunting ghosts.”

“But you’re our research department.” Dean tries for funny, it doesn’t really work.

“It’s simple, I don’t want to hunt anymore.”

‘What about me?’ Dean thinks, but he can’t seem to get the words out and by the time he’s ready to say something, Sam’s snoring quietly.

In the morning, he wakes up alone. The walk of shame back to the room makes him want to die and Dad’s I-told-you-so look doesn’t help. Tennessee never looked so shitty in his life. Sam is gone, Dean is alone but at least there’s a lead. With nothing but time on his hands, Dad’s crusade is cemented as his.

~*~

September comes and goes and there’s still no word from Sam. That last part is something Dean tries to ignore like the giant, flying, pink elephant in the room. Sam made his decision and nothing Dean did kept him around, so fuck him.

Tennessee ends up being another dead end and as soon as he and Dad realize it, they split. A new case takes Dean to Nevada, where he uses the distraction to push Sam to the back of his mind. He knows, however, that he’s hovering around neighboring states, Colorado, Washington and Idaho, hoping for a call from Sam wanting him back. The call never comes, not from Sam at least and when Dad asks him to make his way to Alabama in December, there's no good reason not to.

** May 2, 2003 - Athens, OH **

Dean never knew you could actually learn something from a chick flick. But it's true, you shouldn't try to start something if you're not over your last. It’s been two years, but Cassie still ends up burned. He’s not sure if it is self-sabotage or what, but revealing his real job isn’t a smart idea. Maybe he’s trying to have someone else who understands, still wants to be around during the crazy, but that’s not gonna happen. He should know better than to think he can be happy.

Sam’s forgotten him, why would anything else in his life work out?

** June 23, 2003 - KY **

He spends the summer in Kentucky, taking down a hand full of ghosts and what he thinks is a demon or two while making his way through the state. Subconsciously he's aware that he's avoiding the other side of the country. But when there's a convenient excuse to head west, he takes it.

Sam's found himself a girl; some tall, blonde, drink of water. Dean's kinda proud and since he’s alone, he can admit he’s kinda pissed. So not only was his life not good enough for Sam, it seems Dean wasn't good enough either. What upsets him most is that Sam is happy. He calls in one of Dad's connections to finish up the case, he needs to get the hell out of town.

Back to being five-hundred miles away from the state of California.

** October 7, 2005 - Baton Rouge, LA **

He’s in Louisiana, dealing with a Voodoo priestess who’s selling hex bags that work as catnip for spirits. Dad’s working on an important lead, he decided it’d be best for Dean to head up a hunt on his own since he’s not sure about the details yet. Dean’s not bothered, sometimes Dad gets really intense when he’s tracking _those_ leads.

After finding four other hex bag recipients and fast enough to prevent too much damage, the priestess is handled. Apparently she didn’t know the bones she used were the real deal so Dean gives her a pass when she swears there will never be any more dealings with magic.

He calls Dad when everything’s wrapped up and gets nothing, waits a day and still nothing.

That’s never a good sign.

~*~

Seeing Sam again should feel better than it does. He should be happy to have Sam back. Instead, Dean feels like shit. Sam’s not really talking. Mentioning Dad just makes it worse. They spend the week after Jess’ death lurking around campus. Sam doesn’t want to show his face, preferring to slink away as soon as he can.

** November 25, 2005 - Gering, NE **

He hasn’t had more than a few conversations with Sam in three weeks. Thanksgiving’s coming up. They don’t usually do anything for the holiday, but Jess seemed like the kind of girl to have had plans for the day. A complete homemade spread or a visit to her family, something house-wifey. Dean wonders if Sam had met her folks yet or if that was supposed to happen this year. There are questions Dean knows he doesn't want to ask, knows he shouldn’t remind Sam of what’s gone and won’t come back.

Instead he stops by KFC and buys the family deal. As Dean puts down the second serving of coleslaw, Sam’s favorite, he wonders if it’s enough, if Sam regrets being with him.

“You got me extra coleslaw?” Sam asks. “It’s my favorite.”

“That’s why I got it.” Dean looks in the bucket, “Now, do you think we can put all the pieces together to make it look like a whole chicken?”

Sam laughs, the first, real one Dean’s heard since Halloween. “Thanks, Dean.”

“And I expect you in a food coma over that coleslaw in the next half hour.”

Sam smiles and Dean feels just a little bit better.

** May 12, 2006 - Cincinnati, OH **

It takes a while, but eventually they slot back into each other’s lives. The center piece of a puzzle Dean didn’t realize was missing or maybe he did, but just wouldn't admit it. He catches Sam staring off into the distance every so often. He can tell Jess really must have meant something to him. Dean’s not really sure what to say. There’s obviously not much he can do. Occasionally he feels guilty, but Sam’s back with him again and that’s all that really matters.

They follow Dad’s coordinates and the few clues, moving from here to there. Each day he looks over at Sam and is happy, everything’s returned to the way it was. He feels like he can pretend the last few years don’t exist, pretend that last night doesn’t either.

They’re in Cincinnati when it happens. A job well done means a night at the bar. Dean gets comfortable quickly, as always, spurring Sam to drink more. He watches as Sam slowly relaxes into the booth. He’s got a nice buzz going when Sam suggests they settle up for the night. Thankfully, the hotel’s in walking distance. He scoped out the bar earlier, made sure Baby would be fine in the parking lot, just in case.

Sam’s pressed up against him as he opens the door. They both trip through the doorway, holding onto each other to maintain balance and giggling like teenaged girls. In a brief moment of sobriety, Dean realizes how much he’s missed this- missed Sam, and then the haze washes over him again. A cheesy grin on his face, he chides Sam for still being a lightweight.

“Couldn’t hold your liquor at seventeen, can’t hold your liquor now.”

“We were going beer for beer. What are you talking about?”

“At the beginning! Till you were two in and swaying.” Dean sits at the edge of the bed.

Sam bumps Dean’s shoulder with his fist, “Fuck you, man.”

Dean falls onto the mattress dramatically. Sam gets a worried look on his face for a second, until he realizes Dean is joking.

Dean laughs, grabbing Sam’s arm and pulling him to the bed. They roughhouse for a minute and Dean doesn’t think twice when Sam kisses him, doesn’t think at all until Sam runs his hand through his hair to grab the back of his neck. Dean pulls away trying to catch his breath.

“Dean... I’m, uh- I’m sorry.” Sam pants breathlessly.

“No, Sammy. It was...” Dean’s cut off when Sam closes the space between them again, kissing fiercely. They roll over until Sam’s hovering above him. Everything is tongue, teeth and lips as Sam’s attacks Dean like a starving dog with a bone.

Sensation is zeroed in to what Sam’s doing, how he’s kissing. Dean suddenly registers that his hips are thrusting up and Sam is pushing right back down. The whole thing is frenzied and sloppy and perfect. Dean tries to get some control, focus on something else but it’s all too much, sensory overload. Dean comes, biting down on Sam’s bottom lip. A growl comes from someone and then he feels the shuddering of Sam above him.

Sam falls back onto the bed and they both lay there taking deep breaths. Dean’s still fighting the occasional shockwave and trying to find a way to set the world straight, now it’s decided to start spinning. They just pass out for a few minutes, Dean wakes up and realizes they’re both still at the foot of the bed, legs over the side and arms pressed in close together. He gets up, the hangover that will blossom by morning already pounding in his head.

He strips Sam, gets his jeans and come-stained boxers off. He’s used to the job on a smaller frame, taking note of how much Sam’s grown over the years, but it’s still the same motion. Dragging Sam to the head of the bed is a little more difficult but Sam wakes up just long enough to help and passes right back out when he settles down.

Dean puts sweatpants on Sam and changes his own clothes, climbing back into bed. He prays his brother doesn’t wake up early. He’s positive someone will die if they wake him before ten.

In the morning, Sam’s in the best mood he’s been in years and he doesn’t question it, just eats his breakfast sandwich and lays a hand on Sam’s knee. Dean can tell it’s gonna be a good day.

~*~

Falling back into fucking is easier than falling back into hunting. Sam wants this, Dean wants this. Dean’s aware of how different they’ve become since Sam left, but he’s constantly reminded of how much they’ve stayed the same. Sam still comes harder than a freight train if he’s got a finger in his ass while getting head and Dean learns he’s more willing to bottom now that he’s developed an affinity for the feeling of Sam everywhere, on top of him, inside and out.

There’s still no sign of Dad but Sam’s by his side so things could be worse, but when they do find him the shit really hits the fan.

** July 19, 2006 - Sioux Falls, SD **

Dean’s lost. Dad told him he might have to kill Sam, now he’s dead and the Colt is gone.

He still doesn’t understand what happened, he was dead and now Dad’s dead. That couldn’t be a coincidence. Dad could have went off hunting with Sam, kept doing what needed to be done, hunt the demon who killed Mom. It wouldn’t have mattered if he was dead.

What the fuck is happening?

Together he and Sam get Dad’s body from the morgue and set up the pyre. It was one thing when he didn’t know where Dad was but now he knows he’s never going to see him again. Dean has no clue what to do next. Then he remembers Sam’s going through the same thing and reminds himself that he’s gotta be a man. Gotta be a big boy, Sammy needs help and he’s supposed to look out for Sammy. That’s just what he’s gotta do.

~*~

Dean’s getting a little tired of trying to talk it out. He doesn’t want to have a girly feelings moment because he doesn't want to admit to Sam that he knows he’s the reason Dad’s dead. That he should have stayed dead, so Dad would still be alive. But Sam doesn’t stop trying and eventually he folds. Dean never was able to say no to Sam.

Later, like a prayer into Dean’s skin, Sam whispers over and over again how he’s glad that Dean’s the one who’s here.

** November 28, 2006 - River Grove, OR **

Dean can’t get out of River Grove fast enough, the five hour wait to find out if Sam’s infected with the Croatoan virus is excruciating. He drives another three hours to get as far away as he can before pulling into a dive off the highway. Crawling into Sam’s bed that night, Dean wonders if he can just do this for the rest of his life. No more hunting, no more death, just him and Sammy.

He never expected Sam to take Dad’s last words so well. He also never expected Sam to leave him post orgasm coma to sneak off to Indiana. Luckily, Ellen is the best girl in the world and Sam remembers the funkytown cue. Frankly, Gordon is starting to become a pain in his ass.

~*~

Dean can’t even wrap his brain around having to kill Sam. But Sam, in his drunken stupor, makes him promise to do it. Promise that if it comes down to it that he will kill him for the greater good. It’s not an option, not even when he figures out that he’s being possesed and is begging to be killed.

Dad was wrong. Dean isn’t going to kill Sam. He can’t.

** May 1, 2007 - Sioux Falls, SD **

Sam’s dead. Laying on a cot in some rundown dump and what the fuck is Dean supposed to do now? Bobby keeps trying to tell him it’s time to bury the body, salt and burn it. But he can’t. He can’t bury him, can’t admit that his brother is gone, can’t let him die. Then he remembers the crossroads. Ten years and his soul is enough to bring Sam back.

Okay, so, one year and his soul is plenty. It’s all worth it to see Sam again.

~*~

Dean, Sam, and Bobby spend the next week looking out for omens and Dean lives like it’s 1999. Might as well make each day like it’s the last, since he can actually count down to the last.

Dean’s decided that the biggest perk is getting sex whenever he wants, something he uses quite often until Sam finally throws a hissy fit.

“You know what? I've had it.” Sam starts, after they take care of the Sins. “I've been bending over backwards trying to be nice to you and I don't care anymore.”

“That didn't last long.”

“Yeah, well, you know what? I've been busting my ass trying to keep you alive, Dean, and you act like you couldn't care less. What, you got some kind of death wish or something?

“It's not like that.”

“Then what's it like, Dean? Please, tell me.”

“We trap the crossroads demon, trick it, try to welch our way out of the deal in any way? You die.” Dean tries to put as much emphasis on that point as possible. “Okay? You die. Those are the terms. There's no way out of it. If you try to find a way, so help me god, I'm gonna stop you.”

Sam sighs, “How could you make that deal, Dean?”

“'Cause I couldn't live with you dead. Couldn't do it.”

It’s not a good excuse but it gets Sam off his back.

~*~

Dean doesn’t trust this Ruby chick and Sam shouldn’t trust her either. A demon is a demon, he doesn’t care that she helped Bobby fix the Colt. Now, she’s telling Sam that she can help him get Dean out his deal. She can’t possibly be able to do that and Sam shouldn’t believe she can. Demons lie to get what they want, that’s their endgame. What her endgame is he’s still not sure, but Sam needs to stop messing around. He warned him about the conditions.

Fucking demons.

~*~

Fucking Bela.

Dean can’t catch a break with girls these last few months, but she’s the _worst_! Dean’s not a fan of hitting women but she’s going to get the biggest beatdown of her life- once he figures out a time she won’t be useful or he doesn’t want to stare at her tits. Damn her well-defined cleavage and plunging necklines.

** December 25, 2007 - Ypsilanti, MI **

Sam’s set up a Charlie Brown Christmas and it’s fucking fantastic. They exchange gifts and kick back to watch the game. It’s perfect.

Two minutes into the fourth quarter the eggnog starts creeping up on him.

“Damn, Sammy. Really put a buttload of liquor in this didn’t you?”

Sam laughs, “I know, right? Fuck, I’m drunk.”

“Please don’t quit your day job to become a bartender,” Dean cackles.

“Whatever. At least it tastes good.”

“Guess you’ve got that goin for ya.” Dean rises from his seat, “Gotta take a leak.”

When he gets back, Sam’s relaxed back into the cushion, legs stretched out on the coffee table. Dean takes the other half of the seat, propping up his leg over Sam’s lap.

“Merry Christmas, Sammy.”

Sam looks over and smiles, “Merry Christmas.”

“And thanks. I really appreciate this.”

Moving Dean’s leg, Sam crawls over him. “How appreciative are you?” He drawls, nuzzling against Dean’s neck.

Dean smirks, “Very.”

They fall into bed and it’s not like it’s ever been before. Soft. Tender. Gentle. Like they’re both trying to save a precious memory and maybe they are. Dean doesn’t want to let him go, doesn’t want to die, doesn’t want to leave Sam behind.

The words are never spoken, but it’s said with every touch.

~*~

Dean knew he couldn’t trust Ruby.

The bitch knew she couldn’t get him out the deal, got Sam’s hopes up and maybe his a little too, stringing them both along. In the end, it turned out just like he said all along. Demons lie. That’s just what she did.

She says he will turn into a demon while he’s in hell, but that’s bullshit. He’s a fucking hunter. He will never turn into one of them, into a monster.

There’s only three weeks left. They’ve caught every demon possible to find out who holds his deal. It’s going nowhere and time is not on their side, Sam gets some more information about a possible zombie hunt, so they’re off. Might as well keep ticking off stuff from the bucket list.

Dean has a split-second moment of hope when Sam tells him the hunt is about Doctor Benton, that there might be a way for him to live. Then, reality comes crashing back and he remembers Benton is practically a zombie himself.

Luckily, Bobby finally calls with a real lead. Heading after Bela and the colt is his best bet, not some weirdo human jigsaw puzzle.

Finding out the colt is gone and impossible to get is the last straw. He’s officially out of plans and now Sam’s in trouble. If he’s going to die it won’t be before saving his brother.

** May 1, 2008 - New Harmony, IN **

_Thirty hours._

Dean refuses Ruby’s help, knows that she’s been bad news since the first time Sam mentioned her but of course, Sam doesn’t listen to anything he says and summons her anyway. The satisfaction of trapping her in that basement forever makes his top ten list.

Upstairs, he starts gathering things to head to Indiana. Sam, as always, wants to talk about it.

“This is me, Dean. I can handle the consequences of working with Ruby.” Sam pauses, watching Dean shake his head. “And if it'll save you-”

“Why even risk it? Huh, Sam?”

“Because you're my brother. Because you did the same thing for me.”

“I know,” Dean scoffs, “And look how that turned out. All I'm saying... Sammy, all I'm saying is that you're my weak spot, you are. And I'm yours.”

“You don't mean that. We're… we're family.”

“I know. And those evil sons of bitches know it too. I mean, what we'll do for each other, you know, how far we'll go? They're using it against us.”

“So what? We just stop looking out for each other?”

“No, we stop being martyrs, man. We– we– we stop spreading it for these demons. We take this knife, and we go after Lilith our way, the way Dad taught us to. And if we go down, then, uh... then we go down swinging.”

Sam just looks at him.

“What do you think?”

Sam looks down. “I think you totally should have been jamming "Eye of the Tiger" right there.”

“Oh, bite me. I totally rehearsed that speech, too.”

~*~

It’s too late. There’s minutes left and he can practically feel the hellhound breathing down his neck, Sam’s getting desperate and the last thing he’ll let happen is Sam turn darkside for him.

“I'm sorry. I mean this is all my fault, I know that. But what you're doing, it's not gonna save me. It's only gonna kill you.”

“Then, what am I supposed to do?” Sam’s fighting back tears.

“Keep fighting. Take care of my wheels. Sam, remember what Dad taught you... okay? And remember what I taught you.” He tries to smile, for Sammy’s sake.

The clock strikes midnight, the hellhound appears and so does Lilith. He wishes Sam wasn’t here to see this.

** May 2, 2008 **

“Help! No! Somebody help me! Sam!”

Strung up on hooks. Pierced through the shoulder and side. No one in sight. Words lost to the abyss.

“Help! Sammy! Please!”

Head, arms, legs, all restrained. Laying on a board and overlooking the never-ending landscape of souls. Black figures moving from person to person; hurting, torturing.

“Please! Stop!”

Looking skyward, now. But there’s no sky, just more smoke and bone and fire.

He’s never seen a face like this before, it looks worse than anything on earth, anything he’s ever hunted. It moves to his side.

“Dean Winchester,” It drawls, voice surrounding him but no mouth to move. “Greetings, I’m Alastair. Part of the welcome committee. I’ll be having a grand ’ol time with you today.” Alastair pauses, brandishing a long razor blade, “And until the end of time.” Skeletal fingers form, flexing around the perverted barber’s tool. “Oh, and Daddy wanted me to say hi.”

~*~

“No more! Please!”

Alastair calls them lessons and he comes daily. At least, he says it’s once a day but to Dean it feels like an eternity of never-ending pain. He can’t see most of the time, blood trickling into his line of sight. The days he chooses to keep his eyes shut, to avoid seeing what’s coming next, Alastair removes his eyelids.

Some days, Alistair just talks. Taking the form of Sam or Dad or Dean himself to remind him why he’s there.

“You sold your soul, cause you couldn’t be alone?” Sam says to him. “You’re a coward, Dean and you’re selfish. ‘Cause now I’m alone and you couldn’t care less.”

“You had ONE job, Dean!” Dad’s yelling, fuming. “All I ever asked of you was to look after Sammy and you couldn’t do your fucking job!”

Dean’s figure appears, “What’s dead should stay dead, you know that better than anyone else. You’ve become a monster, no better than the scum you hunt. You did this to yourself, Dean. You’re a failure, you’ve always been a failure and finally, you’re right where you belong.”

~*~

Every time Dean is laid out on the rack, throat hoarse, pain pulsating through each nerve - Alastair looks at him with a toothy smile. “Dean Winchester, I ask you each day and I will ask you again. I will put down my razor if you pick it up. This could all be over for you.” Alistair touches Dean’s chest lightly, the pain there fading, “All you have to do is say yes.”

Dean refuses every time, watches as Alastair retreats to be replaced by the newest convert learning under his tutelage.

~*~

The screaming never ends. Blood-curdling yells. Constant cries for help. Then the night comes when Dean realizes that it’s him, he’s been screaming for so long he can’t remember how to say anything other than, “Please! Stop! No more!”. He can’t remember anything, anyone and that is the night he says yes.

~*~

He can keep time better now, but not like he did before. Now he tells time by how long a soul pleads before giving up on words to sob, seconds. How long it takes to filet the skin off every major appendage, hours. How long it takes to gets bored and crave a new soul to torture, months then weeks then days. How long before he begins to enjoy the blood and bile under his nails, too soon.

~*~

There's a bright light and Dean hears screaming louder than that of the man on his rack. Recognizing the sound of dying demons, he stands guard with his blade in hand.

Self-preservation. Dean shields his eyes from the light, it moves swiftly from point to point along the horizon. Its edges branch out independently, appearing to check a spot then return to the source. When the light reaches Dean, he hears the whisper of a thousand voices.

Suddenly, he's enveloped in brightness. He tries to grab anything he can, hands clawing through the fog. There’s a searing pain in his shoulder as he's pulled into the air. Dean winces and moves to the source, touching what feels like a hand holding him. At the touch, the hand squeezes him tighter and the pain reaches bone. Before he blacks out he hears:

“Dean Winchester is saved.”

** September 18, 2008 - Pontiac, IL **

Waking up in a makeshift coffin is not something Dean thought he'd ever experience. The panic-stricken fight to dig himself out of his grave, the claustrophobic feeling of dirt trying to fill the space he's creating as he claws towards the surface. Dying from asphyxiation after being brought back to life is probably the biggest cosmic kick in the nuts he can think of.

Finally getting to his feet beside his unmarked grave, he takes a look around. It looks like a bomb went off and he was the epicenter, trees down for a half-mile around. Dean looks for signs of civilization, finding a road and makes his way down until he finds a gas station. Water, a quick wash up and an energy bar or two, and he’s ready to head out. Something blows out all the windows in the gas station and whatever it is, he doesn’t stick around to investigate. After all that, he positive it's time to get back to Sam.

Bobby puts Dean through the ringer, but it’s not until Dean sees Sam that he’s sure he’s actually back, alive, and that everything hasn’t been some elaborate hallucination Alastair set up to fuck with him. He's got Sam in his arms and Sam is real. All he wants to do is throw him down and touch every inch of him, hold on to the memory just in case. But Bobby’s and some random chick are still in the room, so he keeps it PG and instead gives him tightest hug he can manage.

The rest of the day is a whirlwind; Pamela’s house, her trip to the hospital, demons in the diner, another glass parade in the hotel. Then, there’s the barn. Dean’s still in shock, a half-dozen salt rounds, Ruby’s blade to the chest and the outrageous claim of being an angel. Okay, maybe the creepy shadow wings were something, but angels weren’t real. No matter how many times that weirdo says he is one, he can’t be.

He and Sam are at Bobby’s house, well, Dean and Bobby are. Sam’s on his way back from eating wherever he was when they decided to do the summoning.

Dean keeps playing the events over and over in his head. The perplexed look on Castiel’s face burned into Dean’s memory; “You don’t think you deserve to be saved.”

He’s still trying to figure out what the fuck that means. Well he knows what it means, but who the fuck is this Castiel to say anything about him? He doesn’t know shit about Dean, about what he’s had to go through, about why he ended up in- where he was. Fuck Castiel, what kind of name is that anyway? Some uptight pretentious foo-foo name. Fuck him.

Dean realizes he’s having a one-sided fight in his head. It calls for a drink.

~*~

Sam sneaks back into Bobby's house close to one in the morning. Dean's sitting across the couch in the study, watching as his brother tries not to wake anyone.

"Took you long enough," Dean says, startling Sam.

"Shit! Dean. I was just hanging out, if you needed me I thought you’d call."

"I didn't need you for anything. Me and Bobby handled it fine."

Sam turns on a table lamp and moves Dean's legs to sit beside him. "Handled what?" He asks, suspiciously.

"We summoned Castiel. Don't look at me that way.” Dean says to Sam making his are-you-kidding face. “I needed to know who the bastard was."

"And? What was he?"

Dean sighs deeply. "He says he's an angel. Of the Lord."

Sam looks at him questioningly. "What do you mean an angel of the Lord?"

"Bobby did the summoning spell and it took for-fucking-ever, but when the guy showed up he just waltzed into a barn covered in every protection and trapping symbol we know. Then, the dude ate salt rounds to the chest _and_ didn't even blink when I stabbed him with the knife."

"Well, shit. If the knife didn't do anything, maybe..."

"That's what I thought too. But there's no such thing as angels, Sam."

"Yeah, but none of the traps worked."

"Since when do we take what some creature says for face-value?"

"I know, but..."

"But nothing, Sammy. Angels don't exist. He’s got to be something else. Now get up," Dean kicks Sam in the thigh. "I wanna get some sleep."

~*~

Dean doesn't know what to make of Castiel. Mainly because he still isn't really sure about the whole angel story. He’s laying on the floor of Bobby’s study thinking about the information he was just given. This sixty-six seals stuff isn’t a joke and the whole awkward boner-thing he’s got going on isn't making it better. There’s just something about someone getting right in his face, all aggressive and pushy. Dean can’t really help it, Sam can be the same way. When he falls back to sleep it’s to images of thin cracked lips, bright blue eyes, and black wings.

Sam suggests they head out in the morning; he is still on the revenge kick with Lilith. So they’re back on the road before noon, headed to St. Louis. Dean realizes how much he missed Baby and more importantly, how much he missed Sam. Without Bobby around the corner, Dean falls back into their routine of subtle touching. Basking in comfortable silence while Zeppelin plays, his hand is resting on Sam’s thigh.

Somewhere around ten that night, they drive into St. Louis, pulling into the first hotel they see. Dean books a room with a King-sized bed, excited to finally have some alone time. When he opens the door, Dean can see the smile on Sam’s lips and he knows he’s feeling the same way.

They follow their usual nighttime routine. Sam stepping out the bathroom in a towel, Dean already in bed and watching TV, sheets draped across his lap. Sam tosses the towel on the couch and sits on his side of the bed, legs stretched out in front of him.

“So,” Sam lets the vowel drag on. “Did you actually think you were getting laid? Tryin’a butter me up with a big bed?”

Dean side-eyes Sam and smirks. “This was the last room. It was either this or an economy with one Double. I’ll gladly switch rooms and you can take the floor.”

“You’re a jerk, you know that, right?”

“Whatever, bitch. Now get over here.” Dean stretches out his arm and Sam tucks in against his chest. It’s the best he’s felt in what feels like a lifetime and he can’t help the outpour. “God, I missed you, Sam. You have no idea.”

Sam leans his head back, eyes searching to make sure Dean isn’t joking.

“I’m serious,” Dean starts. “I just- I thought I’d never see you again.” Sam sits up so they’re face to face. “Sammy, I-” Sam cuts him off with a kiss.

“Dean, I missed you too.”

When Sam spoons up behind him that night he melts back into his brother, the screams in his head quiet for those few hours.

** October 1, 2008 - Branson, MO **

Back from the past, Dean looks around the hotel room confused. He was just looking at the young versions of his parents and now, Castiel’s just standing there like some colossal douchebag dropping hints about Sam. The address Cas gives leads to a warehouse on the outskirts of town.

He spots a car parked in the alley around back as he scopes the parameter of the building. Close to the car, there's a door and he can hear voices inside. Peeking through the window, he's sees Sam standing in front of a guy bound to a chair and some chick to the left. The guy is talking to Sam- taunting him, it seems. Dean watches Sam raise his hand and the guy starts choking on the black smoke- a demon, billowing from his mouth and onto the floor.

Dean is seeing red. Sam’s using his powers again, after all the fucking shit they caused. He bursts into the warehouse a whirlwind of yelling and anger and after, storms out.

Dean finds the closest bar and tries not to dwell, but the rage is still festering at the surface. Not only has Sam been using his powers, he’s been working with Ruby- the demon bitch who strung them along for a year. Sam bold-faced lied to him when he came back. Ruby was in the fucking room, making a joke of them both. Dean throws back three shots of Jack in the first five minutes, staring down the bartender when he makes a face. He spends half the night drinking until the bartender walks him out. The rest of the night he spends passed out in Baby's backseat.

When he comes to in the morning, Dean knows he has to get back to the hotel- all his stuff’s there. He pulls into the Willow Tree Motel and the anger he drank away last night floods back, knowing the situation he’s about to walk into. He’s gonna leave. If Sam’s so wrapped up in Ruby then maybe they shouldn’t stay together, he’ll go off and find Lilith or something. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves and stomps up to the door.

He and Sam fight, obviously. What else would come of finding out? And Sam's attempt to justify himself doesn’t make it better. Okay, so swinging at him wasn’t the best idea, but who can blame him?

~*~

The drive to Carthage is spent in uncomfortable silence. Dean doesn’t care because he’s in his own head the entire time. Truthfully, he’s still not sure exactly why he’s as mad as he is. Not sure if it’s because Sam lied to him or because it's Ruby he lied about. Maybe because his deal left Sam with no one to turn to when Ruby showed up, because he’s worried it will all end badly and can't fathom going without Sam again. Dean fell to the pressure of evil; Alastair convinced him that torture was the way to go in Hell. He can’t let Sam turn into him. He won’t. And so, he doesn’t leave.

~*~

A near death experience always puts things into perspective. Like how Sam distracted Jack Montgomery enough so he wasn't- y'know, eaten. Granted he was unconscious for most of it but it's the thought that counts, right? They get on the first road out of town after a quick clean-up of the Montgomery house.

When they decide to turn in, finding a hotel the next state over, Dean's the first to hit the shower. Sam comes out of the bathroom and Dean's already set up in his bed, laying under the covers.

“Sammy, I just want to say I’m sorry again.”

“Dean, it’s fine. No big deal.”

Dean sits up. “Sam, I want you to know that I was being a dick because I was just trying to look out for you. I know how- I don’t want you to fall victim to some evil bitch’s trick.”

Sam retorts, “Ruby’s not some evil bitch.”

“Sorry. I- I just want to take care of you. You know that.”

Sam drops his chin to his chest and sighs. “I know.”

“We good?”

“Yeah.”

Dean kicks his leg out from under the comforter, a smile playing on his face. “Now come on. It’s time for make-up sex.” If he knows one thing it’s that sex can fix a whole lot of things and that’s exactly what he needs.

** November 20, 2008 - Sundance, WY **

Hearing about Sam and Ruby together makes him sick. Not ha-ha, joke sick. He can literally imagine Sam fucking Ruby and he wants to vomit, sick. Sam sees Dean cringe during the retelling and kneels before him. "Dean, what she said to me. It's what you would have said."

There’s a long pause before Sam starts again. He’s looking up at Dean with sad eyes. “It’s just that... You were gone, Dean. I watched a hellhound rip you to shreds. I carried your body out of that house. I buried you myself.” Sam deflates on his heels, sniffing back tears. “And then no one would make me a deal. There was no way to get you out and she showed up with a plan.”

Dean rubs his thigh nervously. He’d never thought of it from that side.

Sam’s talking again, “It doesn’t matter now. Cause you’re back and you’re here with me.”

Dean smiles, “You’re right. She’s helping out with Anna and then she’s gone.”

“Then she’s gone,” Sam repeats and Dean believes him.

** December 28, 2008 - Grey Bull, WY **

Castiel pops in every once in a while, sometimes with news on the seals; other times, it seems, just to check up on Dean. Dean doesn't mind too much because Cas is good company. So, the nights when Sam’s being a wet blanket, Dean calls him and they hang out for a while, just long enough to be entertaining and for Sam not to sour their night too.

On occasion they all hang out, Sam geeks out asking Cas about stupid events in history, Dean jokes that he’s falling asleep. Or, Dean decides it’s time to teach Cas about earthly pleasures and Sam scolds him for trying to get Cas high. Most of the time, Dean gets to be wedged between them both as he jokes about the shitty monster movie of the week.

He doesn’t realize how often Cas pops up until Bobby calls him out on it.

“Where’s the tall one?” Comes Bobby’s gruff voice from the cell phone.

“Fuck if I know, at the library or something.”

“It’s nine at night, ain’t no libraries open this late. And fix your tone, boy.”

Dean sits up straighter. “Sorry. I haven’t the slightest where Sam is and I don’t particularly care. I’m teaching Cas here about the genius that is Mr. James Dean.”

“Cas, huh? Don’t he got a heavenly guard to get to?”

“Nah,” Dean drawls. “I’ve told him he doesn’t have to come every time I call. Told him to handle business and that we appreciate any intel he can give.”

“Right. So back to your brother, I tried to call him. Have some more stuff on those angel sigils to give ’im.”

“Well I dunno where he is.” Dean says a little distracted, pointing at the TV aggressively, letting Cas know to pay attention.

“I got that. Ya know what, just tell him to call me back. And let that damn angel get back to work.”

“Yeah, Bobby. No problem.”

Dean hangs up the phone and sits back on the bed next to Cas. It’s a smaller room, there’s no couch to keep the distance between them. They watch two other movies in the marathon before Cas announces he has to return to heaven. An hour after that, Sam shows up and Dean notices there was a second bed in the room the whole time.

** July 25, 2009 - Sioux Falls, ND **

Dean’s world is turned upside down. Again.

Sam’s drinking demon blood.

Ruby’s been feeding him demon blood.

All his powers are because of the fucking blood.

And now his brother is hallucinating in Bobby’s panic room.

He sits outside the door just listening to Sam talk. Anger, worry, doubt and betrayal all fighting for dominance over his emotions so he sulks and when that doesn’t work, he drinks.

“I'm sorry, I am.” Dean hears Sam say to the room. “But life doesn't turn out the way you thought when you were fourteen years old. We were never going to be normal. We were never going to get away. Grow up.”

Dean’s not sure who Sam’s talking to but every time Sam curses himself Dean wants to run inside and knock the demon blood out of him. He leaves when Sam starts mumbling nonsense.

Bobby tries to comfort in his own way, which turns out to be a whole bottle of scotch. Dean frowns then looks up giving Bobby’s a nod in thanks. They have a few drinks then Dean excuses himself. “I’m just gonna get some air,” he says, making his way out the house.

His talk with Cas is eye-opening and depressing all at once. He agrees to be the angels’ bitch-boy because he’s trying to protect Sam, prevent Sam from thinking demon blood is the way to gank Lilith. Doing his damn job, looking after Sammy. Bobby doesn’t like the idea but it too late, he’s made the decision to do what needs to be done and to help Sam, no matter how disappointed he is.

~*~

Being in the green room is slowly driving Dean insane. Zachariah is an ass. Cas is being an ass. They’re keeping him hostage and there’s nothing but a fucking burger for his troubles.

Dean knows he fucked up, shouldn’t have agreed but it’s too late now. His fuck up left Sam on the path to Lilith and there’s nothing he can do about it. Then Cas shows up, roughs him up a little bit and whammys Zach out to help him escape.

He’s practically rendered speechless with Cas’ ‘were making it up as we go.’ Dean never thought Cas would sacrifice himself so much, but he’s grateful when he stays behind to take on Raphael and moreso when he’s transported to the covenant.

** July 28, 2009 - Pike Creek, DE **

It’s official, Zachariah has made it to Dean’s shit list. The whole angel gang can kiss his ass for all he cares. Thankfully, Cas is alive and in one solid piece. He and Sam drive back to the hotel near Bobby's hospital, Dean prays to Cas hoping they can figure out the events of the last week.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Dean's being a little over-dramatic, he knows it, but Chuck called him chunky soup and now Cas is seemingly back to normal.

“I’m still not positive,” Castiel answers. “Raphael came to protect Chuck, killing me.”

“So how are you here now?” Sam asks.

“I believe God resurrected me.”

“God? He's been hanging around and he just _lets_ Lucifer escape.” Dean makes sure to avoid Sam's eyes during the awkward silence that falls over the room. “Okay, so He humpty-dumpty'd you. Are you still an angel?”

“Yes, but it appears my connection to Heaven is weakened.”

“What about Jimmy?” Sam speaks up from his seat.

“Jimmy, I fear, died during Raphael’s attack. When I was returned, he was no longer with me.”

“I thought you said he wouldn’t die?” Sam asks.

“That was ‘cause Cas never thought he’d be spattered across a living room.” Cas narrows his eyes and Dean says, “I feel even worse now.”

“Jimmy has gone home. He served the Lord well and will be rewarded with an eternity in heaven.”

“Lucky him.” Dean tries to come off sarcastically but Cas looks pleased.

~*~

They’re headed back to the hotel from Bobby’s hospital room. Dean hopes the pep talk works and that Bobby doesn’t worry too much. He knows they have no plan and no way of stopping the apocalypse. Sam’s suggestion on places to start just makes Dean think _what’s the point_ as he makes his way to the car.

He hears Sam stop walking behind him, “Is there something you want to say to me?”

Dean pauses for a long time and turns back to look at him. “I tried, Sammy. I mean, I really tried. But I just can't keep pretending that everything's all right, because it's not and it's never going to be. You chose a demon over your own brother and look what happened.”

Sam’s shoulders fall. “I would give anything- _anything_ \- to take it all back.”

“I know you would. And I know how sorry you are, I do. But, man- you were the one that I depended on the most and you let me down in ways that I can't even...” Dean pauses, “I'm just- I'm having a hard time forgiving and forgetting here, you know?”

“What can I do, Dean?”

“Honestly?” He stops a thinks for a second, “Nothing.”

Dean watches Sam nod his head, no fight left in him to argue. He continues, “I just don't... I don't think that we can ever be what we were. You know? I just don't think I can trust you.”

Sam looks up in broken disbelief. Dean shakes his head and walks to the driver’s side, he’s bone tired and rest can’t come soon enough. The car ride back to the hotel is eerily silent. Their ‘talk’ is still hanging overhead like a storm. The room’s two beds are both occupied that night and it’s the first time since Dean’s been back.

** August 6, 2009 - River Pass, CO **

Fucking Rufus. Fucking Bobby. Fucking demons. The second Bobby heard the word demon he should have found someone else to take care of Rufus’ problem. Instead they walk into a battlefield in crazy town, Ellen dragging them into a church. The moment Dean realizes what they’re up against, demons infesting the town, he’s worried about Sam. He knows he said there were no lingering cravings, but he saw how strung out he was the last few months. The last thing Dean needs to deal with is a relapse.

But, they make it through and even manage to take down War. Dean bets Bobby’s gonna be ecstatic that the Four Horsemen have made their official appearance. Parting ways with Ellen, Jo, and Rufus seems bittersweet, but all-out warfare doesn’t leave too much room for cheerful banter.

Sam suggests they head back to Bobby’s to help him get set up once he’s out the hospital. Dean throws a cassette tape in the player, trying to ignore the voice in his head screaming about Sam and demon blood, getting one-hundred miles between them and River Pass before deciding he’s hungry.

Burgers from a drive-in, a six pack in the backseat and Dean’s set to move on to South Dakota. Somewhere just before leaving Colorado, he makes a detour through a national park.

“Remember when Dad used to make up go on those survival weekends? They were awesome.” He pulls over at the approaching picnic spot.

“Don’t tell me you want to reminisce about old times?”

Cooler in hand, Dean takes up a bench and enjoys the lake view. Sam sits across from him with a frown still on his face.

“Here, grumpy-pants, have a beer.” He says handing the bottle over. Sam takes it, unwillingly it seems, and puts it back down on the table.

Pulling War’s ring out his pocket, Dean holds it up, “So, pit stop at Mount Doom?”

Sam chuckles, but he doesn’t mean it. Dean can see Sam’s brain churning, never a good sign after a hunt because it usually means he’s thinking about something Dean won’t want to talk about at all. “Dean-”

“Sam, let's not.”

“No, listen. This is important. I know you don't trust me.”

Dean rolls his eyes thinking, ‘here it comes.’

“Just, now I realize something,” Sam continues. “I don't trust me either.”

Dean listens to Sam pour his heart out about the demon blood and as much as he wants to reach across the table and shake him till he’s better, he just listens. Sam’s fucked up and they both know it. What’s worse is that Dean doesn’t know what he can do to fix it but he guesses parting ways may be the best decision for them both.

~*~

It isn’t until he opens the door to his single bed economy room that he realizes the split just might be for real and like the last time Sam decided to leave, Dean does the only thing that can help him forget, hunt. Sam mentioned there was a vampire sighting in New England.

Next stop, the east coast.

** August 16, 2009 - Kansas City, MO **

Dean learns that he turns into a girl when he’s saved.

It’s never been more obvious than when Cas pulls him from that fucked up alternate ending that was Croatoa, 2014. He’s on the side of some random highway, vaguely aware that it isn’t where he was before Zachariah took him on his little field trip.

“Uh, where are we?” Dean asks when he sees Cas.

“Where you asked me to wait until the morning.”

Dean smiles and shakes his head. “Can you get us back to my hotel?”

Before he finishes the sentence, they are inside Dean’s hotel room, the sheets still a mess from when he was taken.

“I’m pretty sure I haven’t slept, but I doubt I can.” Dean grabs a bottle of whiskey from his bag and a glass from off the efficiency refrigerator. He takes a shot and pours another, placing the bottle on the nightstand. Motioning to Cas, he says, “Come on, get comfy.”

Cas stares at Dean for a moment then walks inside and sits awkwardly beside him.

Another shot and Dean speaks up, “Kick off your shoes, man. Relax. I’m sure you need a break just as much as I do.”

“Dean-” He’s interrupted when Dean tugs at the lapel of the trench coat and tossing back the third shot, sets the bottle aside.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you take this thing off, ya know?” Dean laughs, “Is it like, attached to you or something?”

Dean snickers and Cas narrows his eyes. “Take it off and the suit jacket too. We’ll all get comfortable.” Dean throws his jacket across the room and it lands on the chair, his overshirt drops beside the bed. “See? Better already.”

“I’m generally uncomfortable in this body, I doubt stripping will help.”

“C’mon, Cas.”

Dean knows that he shouldn’t be drinking after that much adrenaline. He knows how loose he gets with the aid of liquid courage, but he’s not too concerned when he catches a flash of milky-white skin. Castiel stretches his neck unintentionally and Dean follows the line of his collar bone to his shoulder through the unbuttoned shirt. How he suddenly hates that ridiculous, starched-white cotton.

“Yeah,” Dean breaths. “Now,” He shifts closer and their thighs press together. “Let’s do something about the tie.” Dean pulls the knot half way down forcing Cas to lean forward, accidentally closing the space between them, faces inches apart.

“How’s that?” Dean can feel Cas’ breath in hot puffs on his cheeks. “Better?”

The question lingers in the air. Dean’s mind is racing as he tries to define the sensation in the pit of his stomach, leaning on the easy excuse of alcohol.

“Yes.”

It’s like a prayer, an admission and an invitation all rolled in one and who is Dean to say no? He closes the last few inches and presses his mouth to Cas’. His lips are dry so Dean flicks out his tongue and moistens them.

Cas’ lips part, something Dean was yelling at him with his thoughts. They kiss for days or minutes or maybe just seconds, he’s not really sure. Hands start slowly making their way into laps and through hair, the whiskey not the only warm feeling spreading across Dean’s belly. It feels easy, simple, like he’s falling and Cas is catching him. He can’t think, can’t move and would be fine if that feeling never stopped. Then his cell phone beeps, a text message alert vibrating his back pocket. He sighs heavily as he parts and digs in his jeans, seeing it’s from Sam.

\-- Want you to know I feel like shit about leaving. About everything. I’m sorry.

Another two buzzes.

\-- Things have been crazy here.

\-- I really wish you were here to help.

“Well that’s a buzz kill.”

** August 30, 2009 - Alliance, NE **

As corny as it sounds, it all started with that kiss.

Cas is eager and willing, something Dean isn’t used to. More like, he hasn’t had someone act that way with him in years. Not since Sam was sixteen and wanted nothing more than all of Dean. Dean thrives on it, seeks it out whenever he can. The feeling of having someone who wants to be with him and not always sexually, they haven’t made it past second base. Luckily enough, Cas being around more hasn’t sent up any red flags with Sam. Cas and Sam even spend time together alone with no problems. It just works, and it’s awesome.

One night, after a particularly rough time getting information about Lucifer from some low-level demons, Dean and Sam retreat to the hotel. Dean is a little banged up, wondering why it’s always him being thrown into walls, but at least nothing’s broken.

"You hungry, Dean?" Sam yells.

"Fucking starving."

"Burger?"

"Fries _and_ onion rings. I need to replenish my grease supply."

Sam laughs. "Sounds about right. I'll be back in like, twenty. You want anything Cas?"

"No, thank you, Sam. I’m fine."

"I’ll be back, Dean"

"Alright Sam."

Dean hears Baby's engine come to life and he checks himself over one last time. He walks back into the room and sits on his bed, looking up at Cas leaning against the wall.

"Sit down, Cas. I know you're tired by now." He pats the mattress beside him.

Cas takes a few steps, "I don't really need to rest, Dean."

"Well then, let's not rest." Dean closes the space between them and kisses Cas, hard. Cas opens up, lips parting. They kiss for minutes before breaking for air and Dean reaches for Cas's tie, loosening it. When he reaches the skin of Cas's throat, he sucks hickeys into every place he can. Cas sighs deeply and Dean untucks Cas' shirt, sliding underneath to grab and smooth and palm.

Dean gently pushes Cas back, pressing himself close, so they can continue kissing. Cas' shirt is opened and he inhales sharply at the cold air. Dean moves down, leaving little nips and bites along his collarbone. A flat lick of his tongue across his left nipple makes Cas groan.

"You like that, Cas?" Dean breaths hot against his skin then blows cool to tease. Cas just nods. Dean straddles his thighs, lining up their erections and grinding down. He leans over, moves to Cas' other nipple and grins deviously at the noises he’s making.

"Dean..." Cas is breathless, cheeks flushed.

"Don't worry, I’ll make sure it’s good." Dean kisses him again, moving his hips in hard circles, knowing Cas can take it. Dean moans into Cas' mouth and Cas forces him down harder.

"Shit. Shit- shit!" Dean catches a glimpse of the clock on the nightstand, and realizes twenty minutes have passed. "Sam's gonna be back any minute." He jumps off, his disappointment echoed by Cas’.

"I understand, you don't want him to find us in a compromising situation." Cas says as his clothes mojo back to normal.

"Yeah, it may get weird if he thinks we're boning."

Cas' head tilts and it reminds Dean of a confused puppy. He laughs, rubbing a hand over the bulge in his jeans to make it less obvious. "If you want to hang out, we're probably just gonna eat and then hit the sack."

"No, I should be getting back to heaven, there may be news."

Dean gets a last kiss. It’s hard and hot but still different than the others and when they break away, Cas vanishes.

Cock still pressing against the fabric of his jeans, Dean says ‘fuck it’ as he strips out of his pants and T-shirt, laying at the head of the bed. Closing his eyes, he replays the sounds and visuals from moments ago, loving the way he was able to take down Cas's stone-cold facade.

He slips his hand into his boxers, he wants to get off even if it’s by himself. He imagines what Cas will look like naked and spread out beneath him. The few peeks he's gotten of Cas' body make him imagine long, lean muscles with the faintest hint of tanned skin.

He hates that the suit and trenchcoat deter his jerk-off material, but Dean's creative. He imagines Cas on his knees, bright blue eyes staring up at him, those wide, thick lips stretched around his cock. He bets Cas doesn't have a gag reflex so he can get as far back as possible, fuck his throat, feel him swallow around him.

"Fuck." Dean's dragged from his fantasy as Sam stares at him, in disbelief. "I didn't know it was dinner _and_ a show." Sam snorts at his own joke.

Dean watches Sam place the brown paper bags he's carrying on the table, "You know how it is. When you've got an itch, you scratch it."

"That's a hell of an itch." Sam walks over, Dean still has one hand down his boxers and Sam runs his fingertips up his thigh. "Did you want to take care of it now or later?"

Dean pulls Sam down with his free hand and pulls his dick out with the other. "I'm sure I'll be itching later, too." He tries for seductive, "Maybe you can help me scratch?"

Sam laughs at the horrible line, "You watch way too much porn, Dean."

Hovering above Dean’s cock, Sam sweeps his tongue over the head and Dean groans into the pillow.

Dean keeps his eyes on Sam sucking him off, but each time he closes his eyes he sees short messy hair moving up and down his length not the long brown strands actually in front of him.

“God, Sammy, your mouth.”

Sam pulls off to say, “Too much porn,” before taking Dean back into his mouth, lips tight and sucking hard. Half way down he relaxes his mouth and throat taking Dean to the base.

Dean groans, the suction Sam creates, the flutter of his tongue along the shaft. Dean’s been on edge since Cas left and when Sam sucks on his balls and rubs his thumb over his hole Dean’s undone, come shooting over his chest and dribbling onto his abdomen.

Sam licks a line from balls to tip, smiling at the twitch Dean’s oversensitive twitch, and peers up at Dean through the hair falling in his face. He pats the outside of Dean’s thigh, “Get clean, I’m hungry.”

** September 16, 2009 - Wellington, OH **

It’s been a few weeks since Sam told Dean about Lucifer’s game of “Where’s Sam?” and they haven’t really been speaking much outside of the cases. So when he finishes up with eating the burger Sam brought him, Dean decides he’s up for a good time.

“I’m getting antsy in here. Need to get some energy out.” Dean collects their garbage the wrapping papers around him and tosses it them in the tiny plastic bin under the table. “Wanna go play some pool?”

Sam puts his fork down, looking up from the TV, “Not really, I wanted to relax before we head to the next town. You go ahead.”

“Come on,” Dean crawls across Sam’s legs and up to Sam’s face, pouting. “We haven’t gone out in ages.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Dean. We had a beer when we finished burning those bones.”

“It’s not the same, Sammy.” He shakes the bed and Sam rolls his eyes.

“I just want to relax. Can’t I get one night?”

Dean sighs and makes a point of stomping dramatically out of the room, laughing to himself. Sam’ll get it. Quickly, he whispers a prayer to Cas and heads to the car and not surprisingly, he finds him in the passenger's seat by the time he reaches the door.

"You called?" Cas says looking out the window.

"You got some time for me? Wanted to hang out for a while, maybe get a drink or something." Dean starts the engine, trying not to look expectant.

"I have time."

Dean doesn’t try to hide the smile creeping across his face when Cas places his hand on his knee.

He finds a dive bar just down the street, not really worried that Sam will come looking for him. Inside, Dean heads for the bar to order two beers while Cas settles at a table in a dark corner. Dean scouts the place, he's not the biggest guy there but he can hold his own.

He passes both beers and pulls the table out, moving his chair beside Cas and against the wall.

"Dean, you do realize that I am capable of ensuring our safety?"

"I know, I know. You can Hulk out and take care of everyone in here. I just want to keep an eye out. Now, beer me."

Dean laughs because Cas doesn’t, downs half his beer and rests a hand on Cas’ knee.

"Any word from above?"

"Lucifer hasn’t been located but we believe he’s still looking for Sam."

"Thanks again for the anti-GPS, the last thing we need is Satan popping in for a surprise party."

Cas raises his drink, drains it and places the empty on the table. "I doubt there would be a party."

Dean laughs, sliding his hand from Cas’ knee to his thigh, kneading the taut muscle. "Where's our waitress, need to get you some more to drink."

Over time, the table fills up with empty bottles and around midnight, Dean sends Sam a text message.

\-- Don’t wait up.

A minute later he hear back.

\-- I’m not. See you in the morning.

Dean turns to Cas, looking him up and down. Six beers haven’t even made a dent.

“So, you tryna get drunk?”

“I doubt this bar has enough in stock for that.”

“Then it’s time for an experiment.”

Ten shots of tequila later, Cas is swaying and Dean laughs. When last call rolls around, he convinces Cas to stay longer and luckily, he didn’t drink anywhere near as much. Autopiloting back to the hotel he sees the light in his room is off as he parks.

“Sam is sleeping, Dean. I don’t think we should disturb him by watching a movie.”

“But you’ve got to see High Tension, that movie is fucking awesome.” Dean scrambles, he doesn’t want the night to end, not yet. “We can get a different room?” He asks, unsure if Cas will bite.

Cas answers coolly, “I suppose I have some time.”

“Just gimme a minute.” Dean practically runs jogs into the lobby and knowing Cas could zap off any second, asks for the cheapest room they have. He’s back to the car in five minutes, “Come on.”

The room has a double bed, one chair and a TV sitting on the dresser. Dean shrugs it off, he wasn’t expecting more for twenty-five bucks.

He takes off his jacket and shoes, getting comfortable in bed. Cas sits beside him.

“Jacket, Cas. I thought we talked about this?”

“Yes, no outerwear in bed.”

“Good job. Alright, movie.” Dean cues up the pay-per-view.

The killer has just made it into the heroine’s house when Dean stretches his arm out in classic drive-in movie fashion. Cas adjusts his neck to accommodate and ends up leaning into his chest. Cas’ warmth against him spreads through his body, it’s comfortable and being able to admit that is throwing him off.

Dean has a brief memory of Sam, a whole head shorter and cuddled up watching Godzilla.

“Dean?” Cas asks.

He shakes away the thought, refocusing on Cas. “Cr-crazy movie, right?”

“I can see the appeal. The murders would entertain fans of the horror genre.”

On the screen, the heroine’s mother is killed while her friend hides in a closet. On the bed, Dean’s arm has curved around Cas’s shoulder, his hand petting through his thin shirt. Half-heartedly paying attention to the movie, Dean’s hand wanders down then back up, finding Cas’s hip. Eyes glued to the screen, he slowly untucks his shirt and Cas is hot beneath Dean’s fingertips, hotter than the torso pressed against him, skin smoother than Dean imagined.

Movie completely ignored, Dean focuses all his attention on the sensation of his finger running along the top of Cas’s slacks. Stiff linen and soft skin alternating with each stroke.

“Dean, you aren’t watching the movie.”

“I’ve seen it.”

Cas turns, “Weren’t we going to watch it together?”

“I've found something more entertaining.”

“You’re making it very difficult for me to concentrate.”

Dean smirks, “How's that?”

“Your hand is inside my pants, for one.”

“That's my entertainment.”

“Dean.” Cas says sternly.

“Don't _Dean_ me. Just let me,” He said, unbuttoning his pants.

“Dean.” Cas says again.

“Come on,” Dean cajoles. “We finally have some time to ourselves.”

Cas tilts his head, eyebrow raised and Dean wonders where he learned that expression. Dean grins, in return.

Cas is naked in under two minutes, Dean’s hand on his cock in three. Every mental image of Cas naked he’s ever had are nothing compared to the real thing, definitely a deposit for the spank-bank. Dean touches every inch of skin he can reach and kisses every other place until his lips are numb.

It’s Cas’ first time, at least Dean assumes it is, and he wants the pleasure to live up to the hype. And, if the sounds Cas is making are any indication, he’s doing a good job. Seconds, minutes, hours- it doesn’t matter when Dean slides inside, Cas was prepped but tight, warm. They move in slow motion; quiet moans, touches soft and sweet kisses. If Dean wanted to get technical, he’d call it having sex instead of fucking, but none of that making love crap.

The movie is over by the time Dean comes. He times it so they orgasm together, making sure to pull every last sensation out of Cas he can. Credits rolling, Dean falls asleep with one arm draped over Cas’ waist, bodies pressed tightly together. _I’m not spooning, damnit!_ Or at least that’s what he told himself as he wriggled closer.

** October 23, 2009 - Martin, TN **

Dean doesn’t know how many times he has to say it. He _hates_ witches. They’re spiteful and petty and all around a pain in his ass. This time he and Sam find a small coven of college girls messing with love spells. No red flags at least, not until two guys rip their own hearts out. A proclamation of love, he assumes.

They narrow down the leader of the group who turns out to be a junior named Stacy. Sam says she runs the others around like Regina George and Dean makes fun of him for making knowing a Mean Girls reference. Splitting up to find their spell-book, Dean tails the girl and Sam scopes out the house. He ends up at house party a few blocks from campus, hidden in a corner and watching her when he gets a text.

\--It’s blood magic. Sending pics to Bobby. Watch your back.

He looks back up and sees the girl walking towards the back of the house, makes to follow her but is cut off by a short brunette. She throws herself at him, tongue flicking into his open mouth. When it kicks in that she’s half-way down his throat, he shoves her away and she pulls back hard on his hair.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He yells, over the booming music.

“Just giving you a sample for later, baby.” She slurs, cupping the front of his jeans.

“Wow.” Dean sidesteps her and heads to the back. He searches the entire party with no luck. Pissed, he texts Sam on the way back to the car.

\--Lost the girl, heading back.

Before pulling off he sends a text to Cas with their hotel info, maybe he’ll be able to give them a little insight. The drive back to the hotel takes about twenty minutes, five before he notices his butt groove feels off- Sam must have been driving. ‘And fucking up my seat’ he grumbles as he rocks back and forth to adjust the leather. Sam’s probably heard back from Bobby by now, it’s been almost two hours. And with Sam doing his own research, it’s not going to be an eventful evening.

Just like he guessed, Dean sees the lights as soon he pulls up to the hotel. Sam’s probably hunched over his laptop, books on both sides, hair every which way from tugging his overgrown bangs out his face. Dean likes Sam’s hair like that for reasons other than research. He chuckles at himself, ‘Just say you like his sex hair, dumbass,’ he thinks.

Expecting Sam and his research base-camp, what he finds is himself and Cas half naked on the bed. First, he thinks how good his own ass looks with his jeans stretched tight, second how it’s not possible for him to be looking at his own ass and third, why Cas is dry humping someone that’s obviously not him. He’s ashamed to say that the last thing he thinks of is how a shape-shifter even got past Cas without setting off the angel alarm.

“Wait, what?” Dean’s words startle the two and Cas slides guiltily off the bed. Dean stalks forward pulling his silver knife from its holder.

“Cas,” Dean barks. “If you’re not gonna kill the shape-shifter,” he brandishes the knife, “At least get back so I can.”

Cas puts a hand up, walking towards him, “Sam, I apologize. Dean and I usually ensure you don’t see us together.”

Dean stops as Cas blocks him from getting to the other him sitting on the. "Why did you just call me Sam?" Dean's mind races, processing what Cas just said.

His clone gets up from the bed and stands beside Cas, "Why did he just say _we_ " he makes a wild motion, pointing to himself and Cas, "We’re together?"

"Priorities, dude. First thing, why do you look like me?"

"I don't know, Dean." The way his clone says Dean's name is too familiar and suddenly, something clicks. "Obviously something happened with the witches."

"Sammy?"

“What'd you do?"

“Nothing! Nothing, I just- followed her around and I lost her, that’s it. Cas, what do you- Cas?”

Cas has zapped off, then comes back. “I’ve visited the house.”

“How the fuck do we fix this, then?” Dean demands.

“From what I gathered,” Cas answers, “It appears to be temporary. They cast the curse because of your investigation. Apparently, you’re both irritatingly nosy.”

“How long do you think it will last?” Sam asks.

Cas turns, “It shouldn’t be longer than forty-eight hours or so.”

“That’s not so bad,” Dean perks up. “We should be able to make it.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Sam says bitterly.

Cas leaves and the TV fills the awkward silence. Sam’s acting twitchy, moving around the room, from the bed to the table back to the bed again. Dean is laying down, thinking about what he walked in on. Why was Sam on top? Did he take advantage of having Cas by himself? There aren’t too many times where they are by themselves, really. Is he attracted to Cas? They always joke about stuff like that, wouldn’t Sam tell him?

Distracted by a particularly enticing image of Sam- not Sam in Dean’s body- and Cas together, he decides to just go for it and ask. “So, uh…” He starts, kicking his leg over the side of the bed, not sure how to approach the topic. “How’d- uh, earlier end up happening?”

Sam looks embarrassed, but turns to face Dean. “Well, he showed up out of nowhere, asked where you were, said we have time and then stripped.”

“He asked where _I_ was, and you still ended up in a compromising position? Nothing strange went through your head when he said where’s _Dean_?”

“He didn’t say where’s Dean, he said where’s your brother. I had no clue I looked like you!”

“I’m just confused how that leads to humping.”

“I dunno, He, uh- Cas just kinda... I was sitting on the bed waiting for you to get back and he just sat on my lap and started kissing me.”

Sam looks up and it’s weird for Dean to see his own face twisted up into Sam’s expression. “It happened so fast and everywhere he touched made my brain stop working. It was crazy, like he was using his mojo or something.”

Dean _knew_ there were perks to Cas being an angel. “Yeah.”

Suddenly Dean sees something click in Sam, “Yeah? So this isn’t the first time Cas has come in here and tried to jump your bones?”

“What do you mean?”

“Cas said you guys make sure I don’t see. That means this isn’t the first time, right?”

“Sam-” Dean is cut off.

“Right? How long have you been messing around with him? Is it just messing around? Have you fucked him?”

“Sam-”

“Are you fucking him? How long, Dean?”

“Don’t get so dramatic.”

“I’m not being dramatic. How long have you been cheating on me with Cas?”

“Really, you’re going to pull the cheating card? Like you weren’t running around with Ruby just a few months ago.”

“Ruby,” Sam says exasperated, “You’re going to compare this to Ruby?”

“You’re gonna try and tell me you weren’t still fucking her when you went crawling back to suck down her blood? You weren’t _cheating_ on me then?”

“You always have to find a way to blame me for everything, don’t you? Can’t take responsibility for your own fuck-ups. Just tell me how long you’ve been fucking him.”

“Since August,” he guesses.

“When...” Sam deflates a little, “When I left?”

“Yeah.” There’s the guilt.

“Wow. Just, wow.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes, neither one looking anywhere in the other’s direction. Dean replays what was just said, hating the tit-for-tat. ‘Well, you did it first’ is the worst argument in the world and that’s what he used. He realizes he’s wrong but no matter how much the Ruby thing still pisses him off, it’s over.

Sam breaks the silence, “Dean, you’re right.”

“Don’t, Sam.” Dean cuts him off. “I shouldn’t be hung up on Ruby. Obviously, all that is over. I don’t want that-” he motions behind his back, “To keep fucking with what we have.” Dean goes to touch his knee out of habit, but stops.

“You fucked up what we have.”

“And you’re right, I can admit that. So can we move on?”

Sam looks Dean over, judging his sincerity while staring him down. “Fine.”

He spends the rest of the night trying not to rock the boat, making sure not to piss Sam off or have another blow out. They sleep in separate beds, Dean not doing as much sleeping as thinking. Around four in the morning Sam sighs heavily, it seems he wasn’t sleep either. Rising from his bed, he climbs into Dean’s.

The first few kisses feel brand new, like they’re starting over. It’s strange kissing someone he’s knows like the back of his hand with a mouth that isn’t his own. And as much as he knows this won’t fix everything, he keeps kissing. Dean never knows how to deal with the hard questions, the questions that deal with feelings and sensitivities, so he doesn’t. Sex is easy, everything else is hard.

** January 6, 2010 - Lockesburg, AR **

Avoiding Cas is getting significantly harder now that the apocalypse is knocking on their door. Especially when he has so many specialized skill sets, like finding them in TV Land or substituting for a Delorean. Thanks to Cas, they arrive in 1978, hitching an unfortunate ride back with Michael. They’re back in the hotel packing up to check out early, when Cas comes crashing in. They lay him down and have a drink, it’s tense but they won’t leave him

Cas is still out when it’s time to turn in. The room is sans living room, specifically a couch, so they have to share.

“Don’t mess with me tonight, Dean.”

“Whatcha mean, Sammy? I’m an angel.” He chuckles at his pun.

“Never could tell a good joke. Now shut up and get to sleep.”

“Sure thing, Sammy.” Dean doesn’t wait five minutes before scooting closer and whispering, “So, when are you gonna take off your pants?”

“Dean, stop.”

“Come on, just a quickie.”

“Stop! Cas is right there.”

“He’s dead to the world. How about I get you off and you let me-” the rest he mumbles into Sam’s ear.

“You’re gross.”

“And you’re being mean. You really gonna leave me hanging?”

“Oh, shut up!” Sam kisses him, just to keep him quiet.

Dean smiles into the kiss, knowing he’s won. Pulling Sam so they’re chest to chest, he palms at his ass.

“Hand-job.” Sam mumbles into Dean’s neck.

Dean laughs, squeezing Sam’s cheek in his palm, “Tease.”

They kiss for a while, Dean taking advantage of the time to work Sam up with light hands everywhere. He has Sam exactly where he wants him when Dean gets his hand down his boxers. He pulls Sam’s cock out with his left hand, licking the palm of his right.

Every upstroke, Sam shudders and on the downstroke he hisses. Dean breaks away from kissing to wiggle down Sam’s body, mouthing Sam’s body through his T-shirt.

Sam hums, biting back a moan and whispers, “I said a hand-job.”

Dean whispers back, “Yeah, but this will shut me up.”

“Fair enough,” Sam whispers.

Taking Sam into his mouth, Dean teases with kitten licks against the slit, light suction on his balls.

“Dean enjoys when I grasp his hair as he performs oral.” The sound of Cas’ voice startles Sam who bucks up into Dean’s mouth and chokes him.

“Fuck!” Sam yells as Dean starts to cough.

“It’s only a suggestion. Oral sex is tiresome without sexual stimulation, I find he likes it better if I’m rough.”

“I know how this is all supposed to go, Cas. Thanks.” Sam says indignantly.

“It’s not a problem.” Cas gets up from the bed, looking at Dean and Sam. “Well, thank you for allowing me to rest. Have a pleasant evening.”

“Uh, thanks.” Dean answers, still kneeling between Sam’s legs.

Cas disappears but the moment’s gone, so Dean moves back up to lay down. Cas just caught him sucking off his brother and all he did was give them sex advice. He’s pretty sure no one would ever believe this was actually his life.

“Was that as weird for you?” Dean asks.

“Only a lot, especially after the tip on how to get you off. You know, I thought if he ever found out, it would be a bigger deal.”

“So did I.” Dean gets closer again, throwing his arm over Sam’s chest. “Can we take that to mean we have his blessing?”

Sam scoffs, “You’re a horrible human being.”

Dean turns Sam to face him. “The worst,” he says before kissing him.

Sam was semi-hard, his erection now flagging. Dean palms and rubs at it him to get them back in business. Since they don’t have company, he can get what he wants.

Climbing across Sam’s lap, he turns him as he goes. Grinding down, Dean lines them up for the extra friction. Sam whimpers, throwing his head back. It’s quick work to get him ready to go. Dean rummages through his bag to get the lube and when he’s stuffed full of Sam’s cock, Dean lets out the low moan he was holding back for Cas’ sake.

“You love watching me don’t you? Love seeing how good I look split open on your fat cock?” Dean moves back, rocking Sam deeper.

Sam grabs his hips, forcing him down and fucking up harder.

“Huh, Sammy? Like showing me off? Letting everybody know how good you give it to me?” He imagines what it’d feel like if Cas was watching. “You liked having Cas watch didn’t you?”

Sam keens and Dean takes it as encouragement. “Wanted him jealous? To know he can’t have me? That you’re the one who’s got me begging to get fucked three ways from Sunday?”

Suddenly, Sam flips them over and then starts roughly fucking into Dean. He’s biting at his neck, mumbling yes, please, and more.

“You want me to call him back?”

Sam groans, jerking Dean and hoping he’ll shut up.

“Have him- uh, fuck- have’m watch you plow into me?”

“Yes, Dean,” Sam hisses, hips stuttering.

“Want him to join in?”

That does the trick. Sam drops his head to Dean’s chest swearing as he comes.

Still hard, he looks at Sam. “So, you gonna leave me like this?”

“Yep.” Sam rolls over to lay beside Dean.

Dean just smirks, kneeling next to him. He wraps a hand around himself and looks at Sam with half lidded eyes, whispering his name. Dean rubs his chest, pinching a nipple as his hand moves downwards. One hand on his cock, the other rolling his balls, he closes his eyes.

“Do you know how sexy you look right now?”

“Yeah, I’m a fucking model. Now come and kiss me.”

Sam sits up, kissing his way across Dean’s collarbone, hand sliding down to his hip. When Sam’s finger breaches him, Dean comes biting his bottom lip.

Now he knows, Sam wants Cas too.

  
** February 14, 2010 - Sioux Falls, ND **

  
**The morning after…**

Dean falls asleep sandwiched between Cas and Sam. When he wakes up, Sam’s still wrapped around him but Cas is a no-show. He guesses he left sometime in the night. Without waking Sam, he crawls out of bed to shower and grab breakfast. Walking back into their room, he interrupts the conversation at the kitchenette table.

“I got you pancakes.” Dean places an oversized bag down on the table.

Cas starts, “Sam and I have been discussing last night.”

“Oh god, here comes the chick-flick moment.”

Cas’ head tilts, “I don’t understand.”

Dean sighs, “Never mind. You were saying?”

“We’ve decided to continue.”

Dean looks over at Sam, confused.

Sam chuckles, “We want a repeat of last night. Cool?”

“ _Now?_ ”

“No, not now! Jesus, Dean.” Sam laughs, “You’ve got such a one-track mind.”

Dean perks up, “But later?”

“Sure, Dean. Later.” Sam opens his breakfast platter. “Now, where the hell is my hash brown?”

Dean shakes his head and laughs. It’s not that he never says no to Sam, it’s just that Dean won’t say no when he sees that Sam really wants something and he’s learned that sometimes he doesn’t want to. Whatever they have together, it’s usually good.

“You can have mine, Sammy.”

~*~

Indiana had its ups and down.

Dean’s got Famine’s ring, he’s got Sam, Cas and the wet dream equivalent of everything he could have asked for but it’s not enough. He’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth and it should be the silver lining to the whole fucking mess except, for once he’s not thinking with his dick.

Sam was one of those who got the short end of the stick. He demanded to be locked up to detox from the demon blood. The bottle of bourbon Dean’s taking to the head helps drown out the sound of Sam screaming and cursing. Cas is standing by the door in silent solidarity and he really appreciates the sentiment.

“You know that’s not him in there,” Cas says. “Not really.”

“I know.”

“Dean, Sam just has to get it out of his system. Then he’ll be-”

Dean cuts him off, “Listen I just, uh. I just need to get some air.” He walks out to the scrapyard, lost in thought. Lifting the bottle, Dean realizes the liquor isn’t helping any more. Maybe Famine was right, he can’t seem to fill the hole.

“Please.” Dean says to the night. He knows there’s no one listening, but keeps talking anyway. “I can’t- I need some help.” He needs someone to take the weight off, to shoulder the burden before it buries him alive. “Please?”

~*~

Cas sticks around until Sam dries out. They find themselves alone in Bobby’s living room, each with a bottle of beer.

Cas is the first to say anything. “Are you feeling better, Sam?”

“Yeah, and thanks for hanging around to make sure.”

“I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Sam nods his head, a smile playing on his lips.

Dean watches Sam and Cas relax a bit into the couch, he mirrors them on his seat in the armchair.

“I think we should toast.” Dean starts. “We took down another Horseman. That’s an accomplishment in my book.”

Sam looks up with a smirk and Cas raises his beer.

“I agree,” Cas says. “The Horsemen are very powerful and this is the second one you’ve defeated.”

Sam raises his glass, “To Winchester luck.”

Dean laughs and Cas smirks, the closest to a laugh Dean can ask for. “Cheers.”

They tip their bottles back and fall into a comfortable silence. Dean finishes his drink, “Another?”

Sam shakes his head and Cas mumbles no, so he heads to the kitchen for a refill. Making his way back into the living room, he finds Sam’s head on Cas’ shoulder as they watch TV. It so simple, to stupid but for a second he remembers what hope feels like. It’ll be an ugly fight but maybe they’ll win or more importantly, maybe they’ll make it. Settling down besides Sam, beer in hand, Dean can’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be.

**Author's Note:**

> I'M FINALLY DONE!!! I started my whole LJ adventure because of this fic and it's been a crazy year because of it. All because I said, "Where's the fic where Wincest exists and suddenly Destiel?" From now on, I will only write kinkmeme fills. :D
> 
> Obviously I couldn't have done any of this with out the awesome people who took time out of their lives to help me over the months. 
> 
> Thanks goes out to dahlia94, who came out of left field to shine a light on some spotty sections so I could shape them better. You were an awesome cheerleader and I hope you like the end result.
> 
> xdarlingnickyx, I've already embarrassed you by calling you out on my journal but you are the reason I was even able to get 5,000 words out. You helped me fall back in love with Dean/Sam and our mutual love for John Winchester will never die. 
> 
> And the shiny gold start goes to xsnappapplex! I told you I was going to proclaim my love for you so here it goes. If it wasn't for you I wouldn't be posting at all. You gave me invaluable advice with your initial review and everything you did over the past week just shows how great of a person you truly are. I can't tell you enough how much I am grateful to you. Thank you.  
> P.S. I'm still not over the banner!!! XD


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